


Made of Lightning

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Harry, Coming Out, F/M, Feminine Harry, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Harry Styles, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Polyamory, Set During 2014, Trans Character, Trans Harry Styles, Transitioning, Transphobia, Where We Are Tour, cisnormativity, four promo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-02-09 21:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 74,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18646621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: Harry has a secret that could tear the band apart if the truth came out. But keeping it might be even worse.





	1. December

**Author's Note:**

> This is end-game Liam/Harry/Louis and will feature a trans feminine Harry in a semi-canon compliant context. The timeline will cover Dec 2013-Nov 2014. Each chapter will encompass an entire month within this time frame.
> 
> Warnings: cisnormativity, some ignorance/insensitivity to LGBT issues, semi-explicit discussions of medical treatment (HRT), mentions of surgery, pronoun-switching
> 
> Additionally, Harry's gender identity is not meant to be representative of trans people as a whole and shouldn't be taken as a baseline for understanding any real-life individual's gender. The way Harry is written is specific to this story and the circumstances herein. Canon is used as a way to craft a story using pre-existing puzzle pieces, the same way I did with Call Answered.
> 
> Comments are unmoderated currently, but if this isn't your cup of tea and you know it, please don't comment just to leave something negative!
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Sleep was a precious commodity. The lads all knew this. Harry knew this.

So Liam was understandably confused when he woke in the middle of the night to the sound of his mobile buzzing on the bedside table with Harry’s name flashing across the screen.

“’Lo?” Liam didn’t make an attempt to hide the sleepiness in his voice. It was the middle of the bloody night. Harry had to know that he’d woken him already.

“Hey,” Harry said, sniffling.

The last thing Liam expected was tears. He sat bolt upright in bed, heart suddenly pounding even though he didn’t know yet what was wrong. “Are you okay?” he blurted out automatically.

“Yeah, fuck, I—I shouldn’t have called, sorry.”

“No, wait—”

Harry had already hung up, leaving nothing but cold silence pressed against Liam’s ear.

Liam lay in bed thinking about the call for nearly an hour, tossing and turning all the while as he futilely tried to fall back asleep. He didn’t succeed, and finally, just before dawn, he gave up on that plan altogether.

Liam’s intention hadn’t necessarily been to visit Harry, or at least that’s what he told himself when he ended up in front of Ben’s immaculately manicured front garden right around sunrise. It took Liam a while to work up the courage to knock; after he did so, he waited another long minute before Meredith finally came to the door in her dressing gown, looking justifiably confused by the unexpected visit as well as only half-awake.

“Harry’s here, right?” Liam asked without prelude. He stepped inside before Meredith could invite him in, but she didn’t look bothered, just vaguely worried.

“He should be upstairs still,” she told him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Liam lied hastily before darting up the stairs to ambush Harry in his borrowed abode.

Harry was asleep when Liam slipped into the attic. Liam stood there over his bed for a few seconds, staring down at the soft white duvet covering Harry’s slumbering form and wondering if he should just turn around and leave, tell Meredith it was a mistake, and send her a flower arrangement for the trouble. But Liam didn’t do that. Instead, he leaned down and gently shook Harry awake, taking in the sight of him all sleep-ruffled with his eyes still red-rimmed from whatever crying fit had inspired him to call Liam at half-three.

“Liam? What are you doing here?” Harry lifted himself up onto his elbows, letting the duvet pool around his waist. He was naked. Harry was always naked—nothing new there.

“You called me,” Liam replied dumbly. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t even know why he felt like he had to come here afterward. Harry hadn’t said anything. But he’d been crying. That meant something was wrong.

“It was a mistake,” Harry replied, his tone taking on an unfamiliar edge. “I didn’t mean to.”

A lie. One Liam could hear clear as anything. Harry had meant to call him, he’d just chickened out of whatever it was he’d meant to say.

“Harry—”

“I think you should go,” Harry said in a cold voice, cutting Liam off before he could get another word out. His expression made it clear he wasn’t interested in arguing the point.

Liam fled the attic only to be caught halfway down the stairs by Ben, who was waiting on the landing with two mugs of steaming coffee clutched in his hands. He offered one to Liam, and Liam accepted it with a quizzical look. “Why don’t you come down to my office?” Ben said in a quiet voice. The invitation, much like the coffee, was unexpected, and Liam wasn’t sure how to politely refuse.

Liam had worked himself into a nervous sweat before the door even closed behind him, already obsessing about all the things Ben could have possibly brought him here to lecture him about. Showing up unannounced before breakfast was probably the top of the list, but it wasn’t what came out of Ben’s mouth when he sat down against the edge of his desk and finally spoke.

“Something’s wrong with Harry,” Ben said plainly.

Liam just stared back at Ben, dumbfounded. He found himself drifting down to sit in the plush chair across from him without uttering a sound in reply. Liam squeezed the coffee between his hands tightly, like he was hoping the warmth might spread from his hands to the rest of him in turn.

Liam’s attempt at deriving some small comfort from the coffee mug was less effective than he would have liked. He sat there in Ben’s office, silently waiting for Ben to explain himself, while his coffee grew colder with each passing second. He couldn’t bring himself to take a single sip, too busy watching as Ben’s face underwent a series of contortions expressing a range of emotions that all belonged under the category of ‘troubled’. Liam’s worrying only worsened with each passing second.

“I think Harry’s depressed,” Ben said finally, and it wasn’t what Liam expected him to say at all. Not that Liam had any concrete idea of what exactly had caused Harry to call him in the middle of the night, crying, but—depression was pretty serious, Liam thought. Harry seemed so happy all the time; Liam couldn’t imagine him being depressed. Ben’s next words, however, were even more of a surprise. “Do you think it might have something to do with Louis?”

“Louis?” Liam parroted back, confused. “Why would Harry be depressed because of him?”

The look Ben gave him in response seems to imply that Liam should already know the answer to that question. But he didn’t.

Ben sighed. “Not that Harry’s talked much about it—but, I was under the impression that things between Harry and Louis might have been more complicated than they would appear?”

Liam could tell Ben was trying to steer him toward Something, but it took a few more seconds for everything to finally click into place. “Oh,” he said quietly, his mouth dropping open in realisation.

“It seems like Harry’s gotten worse recently,” Ben continued, oblivious to the fact that Liam’s mind was still in overdrive, struggling to piece together the mountains of evidence that he’d been steadily ignoring all this time.

Liam had never really asked Louis if there was any truth to the rumours about him and Harry. He didn’t think he’d even needed to ask. Harry and Louis were never any different together in private than they were in public; it wasn’t like they went around holding hands backstage or anything. Well, sometimes they held hands, but that was different. Or was it?

Liam felt his face scrunch up as he sifted through the memories that all seemed to prove Ben right. Ben kept talking.

“If they had a fight or something….” Ben trailed off with an expectant expression, as if waiting for Liam to fill in the blanks.

But Liam didn’t know shit, apparently. He took a hasty gulp of his coffee, now trending more toward lukewarm than hot. “Um, I can talk to Louis about it,” he offered.

Ben nodded, evidently appeased. “Good lad,” he said as he slid off his desk before clapping Liam on the shoulder.

Liam was allowed to at least finish his coffee before being gently shooed out of the Winston residence and into the cold again. He felt a bit lost after as he stared up at the big house from the pavement, waiting for the car service to pick him up from their quiet suburban street. In hindsight, Liam’s whole plan hadn’t been very well thought out, but that wasn’t the prevailing thought at the front of Liam’s mind as he squinted up at the attic window, as though trying to convince himself that he might be able to catch a glimpse of Harry within.

There was a gentle honk beckoning Liam from further down the street. His driver had returned.

The more Liam thought about what Ben had said, the more obvious it all became. The way things had gotten all weird and tense between them when Harry and Louis moved out of Princess Park, the looks Louis gave Harry sometimes when Harry wasn’t looking back, even Louis’s foul mood during their last couple writing sessions. Liam couldn’t believe he didn’t see it before.

Liam quickly flashed back to when Harry made fun of him for not realising Dumbledore was gay for that Grimbleball bloke. Maybe it wasn’t so strange that Harry and Louis had slipped under his radar after all. Liam had read all the Harry Potter books at least once and seen the movies about a hundred times, and he still didn’t really know what Harry meant by ‘homoerotic subtext’, if he was being perfectly honest.

The fans must have seen something Liam hadn’t. He’d asked Louis once about eighteen months back if there was any truth to the rumours that seemed to be steadily building, but Louis had assured him then that it was all bollocks. Liam had (mistakenly) assumed that was that.

Liam hadn’t brought up the subject since, but now he had no choice because of an impulsive promise to Ben, who had seemed so convinced that Harry’s depression—if that’s what it even was—was somehow Louis’s fault.

But Liam didn’t fulfil his promise during the next couple writing sessions with Louis before they jetted off to Spain with the rest of the band. He told himself he would say something the next time they were alone together in London; filming for La Voz didn’t seem like the best situation in which to bring up Ben’s concerns.

That was before Liam caught Louis and Harry fighting backstage.

Liam wasn’t sure what they were actually fighting about—they both stopped cold as soon as they caught sight of him. But the tension remained, etched in every centimetre of the stiff postures that each assumed just as soon as the cameras were turned off.

It was unbearable to Liam, who could barely stand the occasional awkward family dinner. Maybe Ben had a point.

Liam finally cornered Louis between their obligations in Spain and France in his hotel room under the guise of wanting to polish up the song they’d been working on for the past couple of weeks. Louis thought that it was a good candidate for a single, which had pleased Liam to no end the first time Louis posited the idea. In the days since, Liam’s insecurities had started to win out in his enthusiasm’s stead. He wanted the song to be perfect before they even thought about taking it to Julian.

But fixing whatever the hell had happened between Louis and Harry took precedence over even that.

“You’re fighting with Harry,” Liam said after Louis had already allowed him entrance to his room. He didn’t want to risk having the door slammed shut in his face.

Louis turned as Liam took a seat on the bed. His face betrayed nothing, but there was a wariness in the way that he approached before taking up his customary spot at the foot of the bed across from Liam. “You mean the thing in Madrid?” he replied faux-casually. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”

“No, you’re not,” Liam said with a frown. “And neither is Harry. You know he called me a week or so ago, crying?”

Louis’s gaze when he lifted his head is sharp, unflinching. “About what?” he demanded in a harsh voice.

Liam steeled himself for an even worse reaction before answering. “About you,” he replied. “At least that’s what Ben thinks.”

Louis forced out a laugh. “What the fuck does Ben know?”

“More than me, apparently,” Liam said with a stern expression.

The smile vanished quickly from Louis’s face. He seemed to realise that Liam wasn’t as in the dark as he’d been in the past.

Liam watched carefully as Louis sat back on his haunches with a sigh, searching for evidence that Louis was gearing up to lie to him—again.

But this time, things were different.

“I’m gay,” Louis finally said through a stuttering breath, and even though Liam was expecting something like it, he still found himself floored by the confession.

“Oh,” was about all he managed to muster up in response.

Louis didn’t seem deterred by Liam’s lack of reaction, however. “I don’t really know how Harry labels things, but he likes boys, too,” Louis continued. “We’ve, uh, been hooking up for a while,” he said. “Since Princess Park.”

Liam wasn’t sure why either of them would choose to stop living with the person they’re regularly shagging, but that wasn’t the first question that came to mind after hearing Louis’s explanation. “What about Eleanor?” Liam asked him. He hadn’t really considered her place in everything till now. Without context, it was easier to chalk things up to Louis being confused rather than wilful infidelity. Liam wasn’t sure what to think now.

Louis screwed up his face a bit and looked away, grimacing. “She’s not really my girlfriend,” he replied, which was by far the response Liam was least prepared to hear. “We’re just friends,” Louis told him. “She keeps the PR people off my back, and she gets to do what she likes without her parents breathing down her neck asking why she hasn’t got a boyfriend. It’s quid pro quo, you know?”

Liam had no clue what that meant, so he just nodded agreeably before changing tacks. “And Harry?” he asked. He couldn’t deny that he was a little curious to know the details, and a little hurt that all of this had apparently been going on right under his nose.

Louis met his eyes again but still looked a bit uncomfortable as he answered. “We messed around a bit when I was still…figuring things out,” he said vaguely. “Harry’s like, always known he liked blokes, so it helped being able to talk to him, and then that kind of turned into other stuff. But he ended things after we got done with tour, and it’s just been kind of weird ever since.”

“Weird, how?”

Louis shrugged. “He keeps acting like I did something to piss him off,” he supplied. “But he’s the one who broke up with _me_ , not the other way around.”

Liam wasn’t sure how to reconcile Louis’s explanation of their schism with the image of Harry’s red-rimmed eyes after he’d called Liam in tears. It didn’t seem to fit together at all, but Liam didn’t suspect for a second that Louis was being dishonest with him about anything he’d just confessed.

“I was trying to figure out what the hell’s wrong with him when you walked in on us,” Louis continued, oblivious to the way every cog in Liam’s head was still steadily chugging along trying to make sense of the situation. “I’m worried it’s going to start to effect the band if he doesn’t stop acting like a mentalist every time we’re in the same room.”

Liam didn’t think Harry had been quite that obvious about the tension between them, but then again, he also hadn’t noticed that apparently two of his best friends had been shagging for the better part of two years. So what did he really know?

“That’s why I’m asking, I suppose,” Liam finally said. “I mean, if Ben’s caught on, then….”

Louis responded with a solemn nod. “I don’t know what to do to fix it, though,” he said miserably. “Every time I try to talk to Harry myself, he just shuts me out.”

Liam wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t tell when he was being manipulated into doing something that Louis didn’t want to do himself, but in this case, he couldn’t really see a better solution. And any problem that Louis and Harry had with each other really did affect the rest of them as well. Liam didn’t feel like he had much of a choice.

“I could talk to him for you,” Liam offered, and Louis’s eyes brightened predictably in the way they always did when someone else volunteered to do something he wanted them to without him having to even ask.

“Would you?” Louis replied, almost a bit too eagerly.

Liam nodded and resigned himself to having to do someone else’s dirty work. Again.

Liam’s first opportunity to talk to Harry was later that night. He chickened out and went to bed feeling guilty and nervous all at once, promising himself that he’d get it over with as soon as possible the very next day.

The second opportunity presented itself in the morning after they’d all gotten breakfast together as a group, only for Harry to slink off almost immediately before retreating from the canteen—presumably to eat alone in his room. This time Liam followed, but he failed to catch Harry before he stepped into the lift.

Liam caught Harry’s eye from across the way and waved, signalling for him to keep the doors open. Harry stared back. Liam ran full-bore toward him while Harry stood stock-still with his arms pressed to his sides. The doors closed.

Liam tried again after the NRJ awards only to learn that Harry had booked a flight separately from the others and had gone home a few hours early. Liam was more sullen than usual during the celebration afterward with the other lads as a result. Louis was the only one there who didn’t give him any grief about it.

Texting Harry had always been a last resort. Harry hated texting, and he was shite at it besides. And autocorrect was Liam’s worst enemy even under the most benign circumstances.

So when Liam pulled out his phone later that night, it was because he’d hit a dead end and couldn’t see any way to get Harry to talk to him short of going round to his place and literally kidnapping him. Which was something Liam couldn’t do because he didn’t have a licence to drive anyway. He didn’t think any of his regular drivers would be amenable to letting him ride around with a trussed-up Harry Styles in the boot, but the idea made him chuckle at least.

The good mood brought on by Liam’s buzz lasted just long enough to get him through the flight home. By the time he was in London again, Liam felt even more subdued than before, and Harry still hadn’t texted him back.

Neither of those things changed in the days following, but the one good thing about filming a music video together was that they actually had to be together to do it.

Unfortunately for Liam, the crew seemed to really have their act together this time. There was no waiting around after call time like they’d become accustomed to; it was go-go-go from the jump, and Liam couldn’t seem to find a spare second in which to get Harry alone long enough to actually talk to him.

Liam went home again that night feeling defeated, but this time he didn’t have much time on his own to sulk. The days between shoots were filled with holiday obligations with Sophia’s family that gave Liam no opportunity to feel bad about the fact that he hadn’t helped Louis—or the band—out in any way. Which only made the guilt hit that much harder when Liam showed up to set again and spotted Harry curled up in a corner alone, a book lying neatly in his lap as he read while the other lads messed around and playfought just a few yards away.

Liam felt the culmination of his frustration burning inside him for a few tense moments, simmering, and then his feet moved of their own accord as he strode over to Harry with purpose.

Liam yanked Harry up by the arm, sending the book in his lap skittering onto the floor.

Harry let out a yelp that Liam staunchly ignored as he dragged the younger boy away from the set and over to the honeywagon parked out on the street, which was noticeably warmer, but also smelled just a bit too strongly of urinal cake. Harry wrinkled his nose as Liam pushed him through the door, though Liam wasn’t sure whether it was in response to the stench or the manhandling. Maybe a bit of both.

Liam still hadn’t let go of him, but he finally did so once the door was shut and locked behind them. He would deal with explaining himself to Niall and Zayn later. Harry looked more like a disgruntled cat than ever before when he turned around again, but Liam was still stood between him and the door, preventing Harry’s escape. He didn’t even try.

“What are you doing?” Harry hissed angrily. “We don’t have time to muck about, Liam.” He was using the voice that reminded Liam unpleasantly of his own mother, which was usually enough to cow him into submission, but not this time.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Liam shot right back. “Why are you ignoring Louis?”

“I’m not—” Harry started to say, but Liam cut him off.

“I know you broke up.”

Harry just stared back at Liam with an indecipherable expression. “You don’t know a fucking thing about it,” he finally managed in a venomous tone.

He moved toward the door only for Liam to counter him in turn. Then Harry ripped his arm out of Liam’s grasp with such force that it left Liam stunned for a moment. There were tears in Harry’s eyes, and that, more than anything else, was what finally compelled Liam to let him go.

“Just leave me alone,” Harry muttered as he shouldered his way past. This time, Liam listened.

Liam tried to put the altercation out of his mind for the remainder of the shoot. Zayn and Niall gave them both confused looks when they emerged from the honeywagon, but neither said anything to them about the encounter, and for that Liam was grateful.

Louis was a different story. He seemed to sense that Liam had failed in his mission and continued to look slightly morose during any bit of downtime in a way that made Liam feel like the worst person on the planet. It wasn’t even his responsibility to mend Louis and Harry’s relationship, but somehow he’d ended up taking up that mantle and failing miserably in the process.

Liam spent the majority of the holidays worrying incessantly over the possibility that Harry might leave the band or do something equally drastic. His anxiety was so pervasive that even Sophia and Liam’s own family began to catch on to the fact that something was wrong as he continued to go through the motions over the break. Liam ended up having to put on a brave face all throughout the last week spent in Wolverhampton just so his mum wouldn’t start crying over him ruining Christmas.

Liam managed to make it through Christmas Day itself without causing a family crisis and didn’t receive so much as a simple ‘Happy Christmas’ text from Harry for all his trouble. Liam sent him one anyway just after breakfast, even though he was tempted to be just as petty and give Harry the cold shoulder right back. Liam wasn’t very good at grudges though. Harry was practically an expert.

So Liam’s surprise was understandable when he accepted Louis’s Skype invite on Boxing Day to partake in their annual end-of-the-year band meeting only to find Harry’s face grouped in with all the others. Liam just managed to keep from commenting on Harry’s presence, too afraid that he might scare him off if he acknowledged the tension that had built up between them over the past week or so.

It was odd how normal it all was, Liam mused to himself as the others chatted about their Christmases and talked about what they’d gotten their families and received in return. When it came time for Liam to do the same, he wasn’t prepared. Harry laughed at him.

Liam went red in the face and stumbled through an ungainly explanation of why he’d chosen the necklace he bought Sophia before being abruptly cut off by Zayn.

“Look, I actually have to go pretty soon, so maybe we could just do resolutions now so I can leave?”

Liam was more grateful than offended at being interrupted, so he nodded his agreement along with the rest of the lads.

Each year they shared their resolutions with one another: all of them supplying the same generic positivity with the exception of Louis, who managed to turn each of his into some kind of joke. This year was no exception.

“Pilot’s licence,” Louis said with a smirk. “Definitely.”

Liam’s eyes strayed to Harry’s video feed, looking for any hint of an emotional response that might betray his true feelings about the other boy, but if it hadn’t been for the black and white cat stretching languorously behind Harry’s head, Liam might have supposed that he was looking at a still picture instead.

Niall’s resolution was to write on a single (achievable); Zayn’s was to actually get enough sleep on tour (debatable); Liam’s was to eat healthier, which after the others had gone, he felt a little bit lame about, but he wasn’t very good at coming up with things on the fly.

Then it was Harry’s turn. Liam braced himself, almost afraid of what Harry might say next.

“I want to be more honest,” Harry said in a soft voice.

None of the others had questioned it at the time, but Liam was still thinking about Harry’s resolution later that night, even with Sophia tucked securely under his arm, already sound asleep. Honest about what? What could Harry possibly be lying about?


	2. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the warnings in the tags and the initial notes! If there's anything in particular you think I should add, let me know. :) Enjoy!
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

January passed in bursts of time, with certain events sticking out more vividly than the rest, as though they’d just happened, while the in-betweens faded away completely.

Liam started the month off with a hangover from hell. He regretted his decision to not write the first of the month entirely as soon as he woke up. Louis would have killed him if he tried to cancel though, so Liam dragged himself out of bed at half-three and into the shower, hoping that by the time Louis arrived, he would at least resemble something close to a human being again.

He was met with a pair of raised eyebrows at the door, but Louis didn’t say anything about Liam’s dishevelled appearance, nor the notable lack of Sophia—they’d had a fight Liam could barely remember now just before midnight, and she’d left for her own flat as soon as the festivities had started to wind down.

Liam struggled through the entire evening’s session, but they were pressed enough for time that he didn’t dare ask Louis to take a break, even though they both probably could have used one.

Liam and Louis were the only ones back in London after the holidays—as far as Liam knew, anyway, since Harry’s whereabouts were forever a mystery these days. But even if Harry was still in the country, he wouldn’t be for long. Ever since his falling out with Louis, he’d practically been living full-time now in LA.

Louis had briefly floated the idea of getting the lads together for New Year’s Eve, but with just the two of them it felt a bit too weird, and they’d eventually decided against it. Liam had ended up with Sophia’s friends instead, something he’d enjoyed even less than he’d initially expected. He wasn’t sure what Louis had gotten up to, but with how quiet he remained while they worked, Liam guessed that his night couldn’t have gone much better.

They continued in the same way for much of the next two weeks, trying to take advantage of the break as much as possible. Recording (what they could) while on tour was bad enough. They didn’t need to add writing to the list. And Louis had once again taken it upon himself to assign them both the bulk of the work on the album, insisting that the success of the last just meant they needed to work that much harder.

Liam didn’t disagree, but a week into it, he found himself already starting to burn out. He put his foot down and insisted they take a break. He was pretty sure that if he had to write another word, he’d go insane.

Louis looked a little irritated by the demand, but he didn’t put up a fight. “Let’s play GTA, then,” he suggested instead.

Liam was grateful—both for the decision-making to be taken out of his hands as well as for the mind-numbing stupor of driving and shooting in a video game as a reprieve from higher thought. He didn’t want to think about anything anymore—especially not the band. And for a while, the distraction worked. But then Liam’s brain betrayed him yet again, and he found himself turning toward Louis as if possessed by some otherworldly force; his mouth opening not of his own volition.

“What was it like?” Liam wondered absently. His controller vibrated as the car drifted out of the lane and onto the dirt. He jerked it back onto the road just as Louis glanced over at him, his expression a mixture of confused and annoyed.

“What are you on about?” Louis replied quickly as he executed the NPCs in the car ahead of them with terrifying precision.

“You and Harry,” Liam clarified after taking a moment to clear his throat. The bad guys—or good guys—now eliminated, he pulled over onto the side of the road and let the car drift to a stop as he turned his attention fully toward Louis, who had yet to acknowledge the reply.

A few more seconds of silence passed, and then finally Louis responded. “What about it?” he asked.

The question was a lot less aggressive than Liam had anticipated. For a moment, he forgot his own train of thought. “Well, like, you did stuff with Hannah before, yeah?” Liam said. “I assume it was different with Harry, though. ‘Cos he’s a boy, and that.”

Louis gave Liam a scathing look. “Obviously,” he replied in a dry tone. “You know you can just like, watch gay porn if you’re that curious about it, right?”

The corner of Louis’s mouth turned up in a subtle smirk that indicated he knew just how uncomfortable Liam really was as he contemplated doing just that. Liam frowned, his nose wrinkling a little in disgust. “Did you watch it before you got together with Harry?” he wondered, equal parts fascinated and repulsed by the thought.

Louis, to his credit, barely seemed fazed by the query. “I watched it when we were together, too,” he answered breezily. He paused, seeming to see something of note in Liam’s expression. “Oh, don’t tell me Sophia doesn’t let you watch porn,” Louis surmised with a laugh.

Liam tossed his controller down onto the bed and sighed. “She says she doesn’t want me to objectify her. Or something.”

He made a point to not mention the bit where he definitely still watched porn anyway; he was just more careful about not leaving any evidence for her to stumble onto if she used his phone or laptop. Liam squinted at Louis, who had abandoned his own controller as well in favour of playing with his phone in his lap.

“Did you guys ever….” Liam trailed off, not sure if Louis would take offence to the question currently burning a hole on the back of his tongue.

Louis looked up and lifted an eyebrow. “What?” he asked bluntly. Clearly, he didn’t intend to make this easy for Liam.

“Like….” Liam shifted uncomfortably and scooted back against the pillows on his bed. “You know.”

Louis actually laughed at him, which just made Liam’s burgeoning embarrassment that much worse. Liam wrenched one of the pillows out from beneath his head and chucked it at Louis, only to have Louis dodge the thing and send it flying into Liam’s desk instead.

“Shit,” Liam muttered as he jumped up to check that nothing had broken. Louis just laughed at him even harder.

“You weren’t about to ask me who’s the man and who’s the woman, were you?” Louis asked incredulously.

Liam went red and dived back onto the bed, clutching one of the remaining pillows like it was a shield. “No!” he replied. “No, I just wondered if you’d—well, if you had—” He couldn’t seem to make the words come out now, even though he and Louis had never been shy about talking about their sex lives before.

Thinking about it now though, Liam realised, Louis had never explicitly mentioned El during any of his stories about getting handies or blowjobs in the past. Liam had always just assumed that’s who Louis had meant, but now he was wondering—his face going even hotter as he hurtled toward a new realisation—if all those stories had really been about Harry instead.

“Out with it, Liam,” Louis coaxed. “You look like you’re about to have a stroke, mate.”

“Did you ever fuck him?” Liam finally managed. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Louis’s eyes and had taken to picking at a stray thread on the pillow in his arms instead. “Like, properly?”

Louis scoffed. “You don’t agree with the fans that it’d be the other way around, then?”

Liam looked up again, suddenly worried that he’d offended Louis with his assumption. “Oh, I thought—”

“Chill out, mate,” Louis replied. He rolled his eyes. “And for your information, no, we didn’t ever—you know.” He looked uncomfortable, but in such a way that it was clear he was trying to hide that fact.

“Oh,” Liam replied.

There was something in his voice that had one of Louis’s eyebrows shooting upwards in response. “Sorry to disappoint,” Louis added with a notable touch of sarcasm. “I didn’t realise you were so intrigued by the idea of putting your prick in someone’s arsehole.”

Liam almost swallowed his tongue. “That’s not—sorry,” he said, clamming up. He’d done enough damage already, it seemed. Better to cut his losses now. “We can go back to the game now if you want,” he offered.

Louis picked up his controller again without saying a word.

They played for a bit longer in silence, the atmosphere just the wrong side of tense. Finally, Liam couldn’t take it anymore.

“Harry’s been ignoring me,” he blurted out, causing Louis to hit a dumpster head on with his bike and sending him catapulting into the street.

Louis turned to glare at him as the death screen showed up on his monitor. “What?” he snapped.

Liam shook his head miserably. “Like, since I tried to talk to him about you?” he tried to explain. “He didn’t even wish me a Happy Christmas.”

Louis looked nonplussed for a moment before turning his attention back to the game. He punched a random bystander in the face, knocking them out cold. Liam briefly wondered if that was meant to be a metaphor, and then subsequently wondered if he was using the word metaphor correctly.

“He hasn’t talked to anyone in weeks,” Louis finally said in a clipped tone.

Liam’s heart sank a little. “You don’t think he’s going to leave, do you?” he fretted. He wasn’t sure whether to find the surprise on Louis’s face when he turned around again reassuring or not.

“No,” Louis replied quickly, though it was impossible to tell if he actually believed it. “No, Harry wouldn’t just abandon the band over a bad break-up.” But there was a tension in his posture now that didn’t disappear when he turned to face the telly once again.

Liam wasn’t so sure Louis was right about Harry’s loyalty to the band anymore. Things had changed since the old days when they were nobodies in the industry with no one to rely on but each other. “Well, Harry has all his fancy LA friends now,” Liam pointed out. “And some people already want him to leave and go solo.”

Louis gave Liam a dirty look before going back to the game again. “Let’s not talk about Harry anymore,” he said with an air of finality that implied he wouldn’t hesitate to resort to physical violence if Liam attempted to argue.

Liam spent the breaks in between writing feeling more restless than ever before. It was with a vague and creeping sense of shame that he found himself lying back in bed on his phone, Sophia next to him watching something on the telly and not paying attention to the fact that her boyfriend was stalking his bandmate on social media, trying desperately to figure out what he was up to.

Harry was in LA, because of course he was, and Liam scrolled through the photos as his heart rapidly sank. Despite what Louis had said, Liam still wasn’t convinced that Harry wasn’t already preparing to leave them. This whole LA phase, cosying up to that Azoff kid—Jeff was nice enough, but it still made Liam a bit paranoid to know that he was hanging around Harry so much—all of it left a sour taste on the back of Liam’s tongue whenever he thought about the potential implications of it.

Liam squinted as the pictures on the screen of his phone, examining them carefully as if he’d be able to glean Harry’s true intentions from the wrinkles around his mouth or something.

Liam frowned as he refreshed the page only to be met with a brand-new photo of Harry with a fan. Something was different, and he realised it immediately, but it took him nearly a minute longer to figure out just what it was.

The tattoo, he finally figured out. Harry had covered up the ‘I can’t change’ on his wrist with a bold anchor design that now dominated the patchwork ink on his left arm. Liam frowned as he zoomed in on the photo, like getting a closer look at the tattoo would reveal something he hadn’t seen before.

It was just a tattoo, though.

Liam looked away and finally set his phone down again, trying to lose himself in the programme Sophia was watching instead. There was something still bothering him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was exactly.

It wasn’t until hours later, as Liam was finally just about to fall asleep, that he realised Harry’s tattoo was practically a mirror image of the rope inked on Louis’s wrist.

Liam shot bolt upright in bed, startling Sophia next to him.

“Babe, what’s going on?” she murmured worriedly.

Liam ignored her and reached for the phone on his nightstand instead. The text he went was barely legible, but he sent it anyway, his mind in a panic suddenly over the thought that Harry might not be over Louis after all. Maybe if they got back together…. Liam didn’t allow himself to finish the thought.

“Li.”

He turned to find Sophia peering up at him expectantly.

“Sorry,” he replied with a sheepish smile. “Had an idea for a song,” he lied. “Wanted to text Louis about it before I forgot.”

“Oh.” Sophia yawned and settled back against the pillows. “You planning on sleeping now that you’ve done it, then?” she added with a pointed stare toward the lit up phone still in Liam’s hand.

He glanced down at the screen, half-hoping to see a reply from Louis already, but there was nothing. “Yeah,” he replied, feeling a bit disappointed for reasons he couldn’t even begin to name. “Sorry.”

The next morning, Liam still hadn’t gotten a reply from Louis, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t ever get one. He was tempted to message Louis again and apologise for prying now that he was awake enough to feel embarrassed about last night’s lapse in judgment, but he didn’t want to make things even worse.

Liam was rigorous over the next few days about keeping Harry off his mind. He lost himself in a new workout routine in addition to starting a diet plan orchestrated by Sophia. He was too afraid to tell her that the shakes she made for him always caused a near-instantaneous and somewhat violent physical reaction that had him practically sprinting for the toilet, but then again, that may have been the point.

Liam was good for nearly a week, and then another headline cropped up, and he lost all resolve as soon as he saw the tweet. Liam clicked the link with a pre-emptive twinge of regret and quickly scanned past all the text in the article to get to the photos instead.

Harry had covered up yet another tattoo. This time it was the ‘Things I can’t’ on his left arm that had gotten the axe. In its place was an illustration of a Bible, and Liam couldn’t help but feel a bit confused by that. Sure, Harry was a bit more spiritual than the rest of them, but Liam wouldn’t have said he was actually religious.

And Liam couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gotten it done at the same time as the anchor; whether it had something to do with Louis, too.

This time, he thought better of the impulse to immediately pick up his phone and tell Louis about it, deciding to leave well enough alone for once.

Liam spent most of the day after that writing on his own, trying to perfect the songs he and Louis had been diligently working on since the end of tour last year. He was only moderately satisfied by the progress he’d made when he finally emerged from the little home studio he’d set up for himself in the second bedroom, but he had a standing dinner date with Sophia at half-seven, and she could be downright hellish if he was anything less than punctual.

Dinner was all right. Liam ended up eating way more than his fair share thanks to his caloric restrictions early in the day, and Sophia clearly wasn’t too impressed with him over that, but Liam was simply too hungry to care anymore by the time their entrees came out.

It was tradition for them to fall into bed together after their dates, but for the first time in a long time, Liam wasn’t feeling it when they made it back to her flat. He put on a brave face anyway and got undressed while she did the same, but when Liam turned back around to face her again, Sophia had a frown plastered on her face, her arms crossed over her chest. She was still mostly dressed.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked, pretending that he didn’t already know.

“What’s with you lately?” Sophia asked suspiciously. “You’ve been acting weird all night.”

Liam froze. “What are you talking about?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.

Sophia shook her head and continued undressing. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached behind herself to undo her bra. Normally, Liam would have already been all over her, but now he just stood there, unmoving, watching as she got naked and splayed herself out on the bed.

They fucked with all the passionless gumption of a couple who had been married for two decades, but Liam couldn’t figure out what had changed. He made sure she came, barely even caring for himself. When he finally did come, it was with a lacklustre sigh muffled into the pillow as he spilled into the condom. He barely wanted to move afterward, but it wasn’t a lack of energy keeping him weighed down—instead it felt like there was a heavy stone sat in the pit of his stomach.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sophia asked him a few moments later. She rolled over onto her side, staring at Liam with a concerned gaze he couldn’t bring himself to meet.

“Just stressed,” he fibbed. “We’ve got rehearsals coming up soon. And the album.” Neither of those things had been part of the maelstrom of anxieties Liam had been wrestling with for the better part of the evening, but they were legitimate excuses in their own right.

Sophia stared at him a little while longer, but it was several minutes before she spoke again. “I’m worried about you,” she confessed quietly, bringing a blush to Liam’s face.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He didn’t want the attention, didn’t need it. He was fine. Really.

It wasn’t unusual for Sophia to fall asleep before Liam, but he usually followed not long after her. Not tonight.

Liam was sat at her kitchen table a few hours later, the phone in his hand the only source of light emanating throughout the flat as he scrolled endlessly through Twitter, searching for updates on Harry like it was a compulsion.

There wasn’t anything new after the Bible tattoo, so Liam eventually went to bed disappointed and unable to comprehend why.

Things finally went to shit little more than a day later.

Sometimes Liam made bad decisions. More often than not, those bad decisions were a product of how easy it was to tweet something without thinking twice about it, and that was exactly what happened when he decided to make an offhand comment to Willie Robertson after watching half a weekend’s worth of Duck Dynasty with his dad.

The tweets started up immediately, and Liam retreated to his childhood bedroom to deal with the flak without the pressure of his mum hovering worriedly over his shoulder the whole time. A few hours later, he’d dug himself an ever-deeper hole and couldn’t see any way of climbing out, so he tossed his phone to the side and settled down in his bed, intending to take a nap instead.

Not surprisingly, sleep eluded him. The more he thought about the situation, the worse it got. Management was going to have his head over this one, but there was nothing he could do about it now except sit and stew—and that made it even worse.

Finally, Liam caved and called Louis for help.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Louis said through a muffled laugh. Liam didn’t think the situation was very funny, but he was too desperate to consider hanging up on Louis for the minor betrayal. “I mean, you’re in it now. Not much to be done at this point except shut up.”

“I did,” Liam whined uselessly. “They just won’t stop.”

“Just turn your phone off,” Louis suggested.

There was a beep that sounded from Liam’s speaker before he could think of a reply. He pulled his phone away from his ear to glance at the interruption. Harry. Liam’s breath caught in his throat.

“I’ve got to go,” he said hurriedly before hanging up on Louis. Liam didn’t even wait for a response before switching calls. “Hello?” Liam was confused by Harry reaching out to him, but he couldn’t pretend as if he hadn’t been secretly hoping for it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Harry’s breathless demand wasn’t anywhere on Liam’s list of expectations. He reared back a little, not sure how to answer, but his silence didn’t seem to deter Harry any.

“Really, Liam?” Harry continued. “Are you bloody brain-damaged?”

“I didn’t think—”

“Obviously not!”

Liam remained silent. Evidently, Harry still wasn’t finished. He laid down again and smushed his face into the pillow, waiting for the lecture to continue.

“You can’t just—it’s like you don’t even—” Harry made a noise of frustration, tempting Liam to interrupt, but for once in his life, he decided to keep his mouth shut. “You know when you say shit like that, it makes people think you’re on their side?”

“What people?” Liam asked blankly.

“People like _them_ ,” Harry answered. “All that ‘family values’ shit, that’s just their way of saying they don’t think gay people should even exist, and you put it in a fucking tweet, Liam.”

“Oh.” Liam was starting to understand why people on Twitter had seemed so upset, but it still didn’t explain why it was a big enough deal that Harry felt the need to break his vow of silence to call up Liam personally to ream him out for it. Unless— “So you are gay, then,” Liam said matter-of-factly. “It’s not just Louis?”

Liam hadn’t given too much thought to Harry’s side of things after Louis’s explanation that Harry ‘liked’ boys too, whatever that meant. Apparently, it meant this: Harry calling Liam up out of nowhere to yell at him on the phone for a poorly-phrased tweet.

“What? No, I’m not—what are you even talking about?”

Liam barrelled on, ignoring Harry’s bewilderment. “Or bisexual, I guess?” he added, more to himself now than in response to Harry. “Wait, can guys even be bisexual? I thought that was just girls. Or is there a different word for that?”

Liam’s innocent queries were met with stunned silence. Finally, after nearly a minute, Harry managed a stuttering reply.

“I’m not—it’s not—things aren’t that simple.”

Liam didn’t see why not. There was straight, gay, and bisexual, which was like half-straight and half-gay, even though that one didn’t really make sense to him because he wasn’t sure why any bloke who liked a cock in his arse would want to sleep with women, too. Maybe only the guys who did the fucking could be bisexual, Liam mused. Did that mean Harry preferred to be on the giving side of things? Maybe that’s why he’d broken up with Louis, because they were both—

“Liam!” Harry screeched in his ear. “I can hear you thinking, and whatever it is, just stop!”

Liam flipped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling instead. “Sorry,” he muttered, feeling guilty even though Harry couldn’t possibly know what he’d been thinking about. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t just tell the rest of us,” he continued. “No one cares if you’re gay. I don’t care that you’re gay, or that Louis’s gay, or—”

“I’m not gay!” Harry shouted, cutting Liam off midsentence. “I’m a girl.”

Liam became acutely aware of his circulation system for approximately thirty seconds, the rush of blood carrying oxygen from his heart to his brain, as the latter struggled to catch up to the words Harry had just yelled in his ear.

“Like…” Liam started off slowly. “Like you were born a girl or something? But we’ve all seen you naked, so how—”

“ _No_ ,” Harry said emphatically. He sounded near tears, and Liam was genuinely at a loss for what to do about it. “It’s not like…it’s complicated.” He sniffled loudly. “I can’t have this conversation over the phone.”

“Right. Well, we can hang up if you like.”

“Liam, just—” Harry sighed loudly. “Look, I’ll be back in London in a couple days, all right? We can talk then. Just please don’t say anything, okay? Not even to Louis.”

“Okay,” Liam replied, nodding dumbly. “I won’t.”

He still wasn’t certain by the time they’d gotten off the phone with each other that he even understood what had just happened, but Liam was nothing if not loyal. If Harry didn’t want him to tell anyone what he’d said, then Liam wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t satisfy his own curiosity in the meantime.

Google wasn’t much help. Or maybe it was too much help. Liam started off by typing ‘boy who wants to be a girl’ into the search box only to be met with a flood of results—too many to sift through when he had no baseline for what he was even looking for.

Liam started to piece things together little by little. By the time he returned to London after the weekend, he at least had a general sense of what the different between a drag queen and a transsexual was—at least, he was pretty sure.

When Harry finally showed up at his front door just a few days later, Liam was ready.

“So I’ve been researching stuff,” Liam said by way of introduction as he let Harry into his flat, “and I actually ended up watching like two whole seasons of Drag Race, right, and that shit’s fascinating, mate, I never knew—”

Harry stepped into Liam’s space and pressed a single, slender finger against his lips. “Be quiet,” he said in a low tone before pushing him onto the sofa.

Liam watched in obedient silence as Harry paced back and forth in front of him for more than a minute. He stopped at one end of the room, silhouetted against the window that looked out over the urban landscape from Liam’s balcony.

“So, like,” Harry said, finally spinning around to face Liam again, his eyes a bit wilder now. He swiped his tongue over his lips, and Liam felt his own mouth drop open a bit, as if in sympathy. “When I said I was a girl…” Harry said slowly, “I didn’t mean it like, I’m a girl like Gemma’s a girl. It’s like…like, I feel like a girl. But I’m not.”

“Um.” Liam paused, waiting to be reprimanded for his reply, but Harry just stared at him even harder in expectation. “I don’t really know what any of that means,” Liam admitted, “but I can give you a hug if you want. Since you seem kind of…well, you know.”

Harry’s eyes had started to well up before Liam had even finished speaking. Liam wasn’t surprised when Harry flung himself into Liam’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck so tight Liam started to worry about the lack of oxygen.

They ended up with Harry fully astride Liam’s thighs, his lips pressed into the curve of Liam’s neck, letting out soft, warm breaths as Liam cuddled him until he stopped crying. Neither let go afterward, but Harry re-adjusted so that they were squished into the large armchair a little bit more comfortably.

“Are you going to have a sex change?” Liam asked Harry after he’d pulled away a bit. He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he waited for an answer.

Harry shook his head slowly. “I don’t…I haven’t really thought about it,” he replied, with an expression that plainly indicated he was lying.

Liam chose not to comment on it. “Okay.” He didn’t know how he felt about the idea of Harry…doing all _that_ , but most of what he’d seen on the internet seemed to indicate that people who did go through with it were happier afterward. And Liam might not have understood why anyone would want to go through that much trouble to change how they looked, but he knew he didn’t want to see Harry unhappy, ever.

Harry nuzzled back into Liam’s neck. “It’s not like I’d be able to even if I wanted,” he mumbled miserably.

Liam jolted a little in Harry’s arms. Right, he realised. Because they were in a fucking boyband that wouldn’t even let them dye their hair—or in Niall’s case, the opposite. The idea of their management okaying a sex change was downright laughable. But that didn’t mean it was right.

“You could at least talk to someone, though,” Liam offered. He’d seen the word gender therapist more than once during his deep research, but he was worried it would sound wrong coming out of his mouth. “Like, a professional, I mean.”

“What good would it do?” Harry replied.

“What could it hurt?” Liam shot back.

Harry breathed out a heavy sigh against his throat but didn’t answer.

Nothing was resolved that night. They spent a few hours cuddling on Liam’s sofa, but Harry insisted on watching movies until both of them fell asleep, leaving no room for further discussion. When Liam woke in the morning, Harry was already gone.

Liam wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he’d experienced enough of Harry’s evasive behaviour in the past month to know that it was futile to try to get him to talk things out. He was consequently surprised when, a few days later, Harry called him up again, this time to ask Liam to accompany him to an appointment with a real-life gender therapist.

Needless to say, Liam was shitting it in the passenger seat as they drove over to the private office where Harry’s appointment had been booked.

Harry gave him a few sceptical glances as they drove. “Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly.

Liam nodded, then—shook his head. He felt a bit queasy, if he was honest. “Don’t you think this is moving a little fast?” he wondered, tightening his grip on the handle above his head.

Harry scoffed. “You were the one who told me to do it,” he pointed out.

“Yes, well—” Liam paused as Harry took the next corner just a bit too sharply, feeling his breakfast starting to make a re-appearance. Somehow, he managed to swallow back the rush of bile coating his oesophagus. “I didn’t think you’d make me come with.”

Liam wished he could take back his words after seeing the flash of hurt that crossed Harry’s face in response. “You didn’t have to,” Harry murmured with a frown.

“No, I want to,” Liam hurried to say. “I’m just—she’s not going to ask _me_ anything, is she?”

Harry laughed. “She might,” he said. “But it’ll be about me, Liam, not you.”

Liam let all the fight go out of him as he slumped back against his seat. “Right,” he said, nodding weakly.

Liam felt marginally better by the time they reached the clinic, but Harry had gone white in the face after parking in the garage and getting out of the car. Liam grabbed for his hand instinctively, giving him a reassuring squeeze. His own nerves were still nothing to joke about, but it was easier to push that aside when faced with Harry’s very real and present terror as they walked into the vestibule to wait.

The practise was nothing more than a small home office split between two psychiatrists—as Harry helpfully informed Liam while they waited. The vestibule itself was small but discreetly elegant. It didn’t feel particularly clinical at all, which helped ease Liam’s anxiety just a bit more.

Harry still seemed nervous, though, so Liam clung to his hand even tighter, giving him yet another squeeze when the door ahead of them finally opened to reveal a surprisingly young woman dressed in a dark grey suit. She smiled at them and waved them forward.

Liam couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes widened in surprise when he followed Harry into the office, but she didn’t tell him to leave. He wasn’t sure yet whether he would have preferred that, however.

Liam waited for Harry to pick a spot on the sofa before carefully sitting down next to him. Not too close, because he didn’t want the therapist to get the wrong idea, though she might have gotten that already thanks to the fact that they’d still been holding hands when she first walked out.

The first word out of her mouth confirmed that fear. “Boyfriend?” she inquired, tilting her pen toward Liam after she’d sat down in front of her desk.

“No,” Liam replied quickly. “Just a friend. Here for…support. And. Yeah.” He avoided looking over at Harry while his face slowly reddened. He wished they’d rehearsed this a bit beforehand. He was certain he was going to screw this up for Harry somehow.

Over the course of the next few minutes, Liam learned that the therapist was named Dr Slora, and that she wasn’t the first therapist Harry had seen in his life. Apparently, he’d had two before this: after both of his mother’s divorces.

Dr Slora was fairly to the point after that. She perched her hands over her knee and peered at Harry intently. “I’m going to ask you a few basic questions to get a sense for how you’re feeling, okay?”

Liam glanced over at Harry just in time to catch his nod. He still looked painfully tense, and it made Liam wish he could reach over to hug him again until he felt better.

Slora didn’t pull any punches. “Do you feel at odds with your assigned gender?” she asked, staring directly at Harry, who shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

“Sometimes,” he told her.

“But not all the time?”

“Most of the time,” Harry amended. “It depends, I guess.”

“Could you give some examples of times when you do feel uncomfortable?” Slora pressed.

Harry thought about it for a moment, his fingers twisting and untwisting in his lap as he frowned down at the floor. “Sex, I guess,” he said at last, and the answer was so unexpected that Liam had to disguise his reactionary noise as a cough instead. Harry’s eyes flicked over to him once before going back to the hole in the knee of his jeans he’d begun picking at. “Or like, just dating in general, I guess.”

“What about it makes you uncomfortable?”

Harry just shrugged.

Slora changed tacks. “Does it bother you when people refer to you as a boy?”

Harry shook his head.

“How about a man?”

There was a pause, and then—the tiniest of nods.

Slora marked something down on her clipboard before looking back up at Harry again. “When you’re on a date,” she continued, “do you ever wish that the other person would treat you more like a girl would be treated in a romantic situation?”

Harry nodded again, and this time, he looked almost relieved.

Slora glanced up at Liam for a brief second before moving on to her next line of questioning. “Would you say that you’re comfortable with your body?”

Harry looked over at Liam as well, making him wonder if he should leave so they could have the rest of this conversation in private. But Liam didn’t want to interrupt. It was awkward enough as it was to just sit there in silence while Harry was interrogated.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, letting out a quiet sigh through his nose before he answered. “I wouldn’t mind looking more feminine, I suppose,” he finally replied.

Liam was surprised to hear that. Harry was always so comfortable with being naked; Liam couldn’t fit that image of him with one that apparently wanted to look more like a girl.

“Are there specific things you’d like to change?”

Harry thought about it some more. “My hair,” he said emphatically. His hands lifted a little, like he was going to reach up to demonstrate exactly what he’d meant. “And maybe, like…my body shape? I don’t want to look like—like Liam. No offence, mate.”

Liam just nodded, too overwhelmed by everything that was happening to even register the comment.

“So you’d like a more female physique,” Slora confirmed, “but you wouldn’t identify yourself as a woman?”

Harry nodded tentatively, like he was expecting reprisal for it. But nothing of the sort came.

“What about breasts?”

Liam choked again. This time, neither Harry nor Slora paid him any mind.

Harry was fidgeting again. “I think so?” he replied nervously. “Yeah, I think I’d want that.”

Liam looked at him inquisitively. He’d lost the thread of what was happening. But Harry didn’t glance back.

“Have you ever thought about having female genitalia?”

Harry went bright red. “I mean, I’ve _thought_ about it,” he confessed, “but I wouldn’t actually like, want surgery or anything.”

Slora nodded and started to say something else, but Liam had zoned out entirely after Harry’s admission that he sometimes thought about—Liam stopped himself and crossed his legs tight, trying to focus on what Harry was saying. But it was too late. They’d already moved on.

“Do you mind if I ask Liam a few questions?” Slora asked instead.

Harry hesitated for a few seconds before finally shaking his head. “If he’s okay with it,” he added.

Liam nodded dumbly. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him something he couldn’t answer, because there was a distinct possibility he’d lie just to avoid having to deal with the awkward tension otherwise. He was starting to resent Harry a bit for bringing him along, even though he could understand why he’d done it. Harry’s track record of one-on-one meetings with authority figures, so far, hadn’t been great.

“In your opinion,” Slora started, “what would be the biggest obstacle in Harry coming out?”

Liam was startled by the question. Harry seemed similarly taken aback.

“What do you mean?” Liam asked cautiously.

“Let’s say between the band itself and the fans,” Slora proposed. “Who would put up more of a fight if Harry wanted to publicly identify as transgender?”

Liam looked to Harry for help, but there was no answer to be found in his face. If anything, he seemed to be expectantly waiting for Liam’s reply as well, and that only made the pressure weighing down on him that much worse.

Liam gave it some solid thought before responding. He wasn’t sure how the other lads would react exactly, but he didn’t think they’d turn on Harry or anything. Modest was another issue entirely. They’d put Harry through the wringer this past year, trying to mould him into a marketable asset now that he was finally emerging from his pre-pubescent late bloomer phase. Harry didn’t seem to enjoy the expectations they’d heaped on him, but he wasn’t one to complain about stuff like that.

The fans were a lot harder to predict, but…it was 2014 now, right? And loads of them were into that gay stuff anyway, so they’d probably be ecstatic to find out that Harry was gay for real—or was he straight if he was a girl? Liam was still having trouble wrapping his head around it, but he’d seen photos and drawings of both Louis and Harry in panties all over Tumblr, so he figured the more extreme fangirls would eat it up. The parents would probably be less pleased, but Louis and Zayn had both been pushing for a more adult sound lately anyway. If they were already shedding their pre-teen fans, Harry being the tipping point wasn’t exactly a negative for them.

“Probably the band,” Liam finally decided. “Well, our management would have a fit over it.” He glanced over at Harry again, but the expression on his face was still indecipherable.

“I see.” Slora looked over at Harry again, her face coolly calculating. “In that case, I’ll give you some reading material, Harry. You can look it over whenever you like. Feel free to set up further appointments via Skype, as well. I know your schedule’s a bit hectic, and that there are privacy concerns as well.”

Slora got up and moved behind her desk. Liam watched as she shuffled through the topmost drawer before procuring a packet that he could make out the word ‘oestrogen’ printed on in big bold letters before she handed it to Harry, who quickly tucked the thing out of sight.

“It’s not like I can do anything while I’m still with the band, though,” Harry said miserably as Slora sat back down again.

Liam started a bit at the implication that Harry had already started to count down the days until he could get out, though he supposed it made sense now that he knew what Harry was really going through.

Slora shrugged. “Maybe not,” she replied, “but it won’t hurt for you to start looking at your options now. You’ll most likely have to bypass the NHS if you end up starting treatment here, but you might have an easier time of things in the US. Either way, there’s a few things to consider before you start, like sperm banking if you plan to have biological children someday. Just take some time to read about it, and then think about what you want. All right?”

Harry nodded even though he still didn’t seem remotely convinced.

Liam waited until they were nearly back at his own flat again before turning to ask Harry the question that had been on the tip of his tongue ever since Slora had handed him the informational packet. “Do you think you’ll go through with it?” he wondered.

Harry’s eyes flicked toward him, but he didn’t turn his head. “I don’t know,” he said with a surprising amount of honesty. “I mean, if I do, I’ll either have to wait for ages or hide it from everyone,” he pointed out. “I don’t know if it’s even worth it to bother.”

Liam took in the slant of Harry’s frown and the crease forming between his brows and laid a hand down over his on top of the shifter. “You should just do what makes you happy,” Liam advised him.

It was a simple sentiment, but it had made Harry smile, at least.


	3. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
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Liam didn’t hear from Harry at all after their time spent together, even in response to a heartfelt birthday text with at least twelve emojis. Harry had once again gone radio silent, as if all of the progress they’d made in recent weeks had been entirely erased.

Liam was doing his best not to mope about it, which was easier said than done. He and Louis still had a bit of writing to do, and they were going to meet with Julian to go over their album submissions before they started rehearsals, so that meant they had a concrete time limit now. And there was Sophia, of course, but she was working more lately now that the holidays were over, and their time together suffered necessarily as a consequence.

But all the distractions in the world couldn’t stop Liam from indulging in his new favourite hobby: cyberstalking Harry. He was embarrassed enough by it that he managed to hold out a few days, but by the third, he couldn’t help but check up on Harry again via Google.

Liam was surprised to find out that Harry had apparently returned to LA for his birthday. Even more surprised to find out that he’d apparently celebrated at Kendall Jenner’s mansion in Malibu. Liam squinted at the headline, incredulous. That couldn’t be true, could it?

Somehow, without even realising he was doing it, Liam managed to dial Harry and had his phone pressed to his ear before he registered what he’d done. “Shit,” he said loudly into the receiver.

“Well, that’s no way to greet someone,” Harry replied drily.

“Oh, fuck, sorry, I just—” Liam swallowed back the tide of words already starting to flow from his mouth. “Sorry,” he said again, just to be sure. “I didn’t mean to call you.”

“Ouch.”

“No, I mean—”

“It’s fine, Liam,” Harry replied with a laugh, oblivious to the way Liam’s face had screwed up in embarrassed anguish after his unintended confession.

Liam threw himself down onto his bed with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Liam replied hurriedly. “Why would you think something’s wrong?”

“Well, you did call me out of the blue,” Harry pointed out. “And you just seem…I dunno. Off, I guess.”

Liam had a hard time not reacting to that statement. “I’m fine,” he replied. “How was your birthday?”

It was a graceless change of subject, but Harry went with it anyway. “Fine,” Harry said flatly.

Liam let that answer hang in the silence for a moment. “The tabs said you went out with Kendall?” he prompted.

“Mhmm.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t stand her,” Liam finally said.

Harry made a strangled sort of sound in the back of his throat. “Might have played that up a bit for Louis’s benefit,” he admitted. “No,” he continued, “the party was good, actually.” He paused. “It was kind of…enlightening, I guess?”

Liam sat up a little. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously.

Harry seemed hesitant to answer. Finally, he blurted out, “I can’t tell you who it is.”

“Um. Okay?”

Harry laughed nervously. “Sorry, it’s just, um, I met someone Kendall knows who’s transgender, but they’re not out yet and it would be this whole big thing—anyway, they haven’t transitioned but we talked about what Dr Slora said, and I asked them how they felt about hormones, and I think I’m going to do it.”

It took Liam several seconds to sift through the information Harry had just dumped on him, all of it uttered at an uncharacteristically quick pace that made it even harder to understand. “Wait, so you are going to have a sex change?” he questioned.

“No,” Harry said patiently. “Hormones, Liam. Oestrogen.”

“Oh.” Liam paused. “I don’t really know what that means,” he admitted. Most of what he’d focused on while researching had been to do with surgery, because that had seemed like the most natural course of action to him after Harry had confessed that he felt like a girl. Because a girl would want girl bits, right? Evidently not.

“Like—” Harry coughed uncomfortably. “Boobs, mainly.”

“Oh.” Liam leaned over to reach for his laptop. He hastily typed in—and consequently misspelled—oestrogen as a search term in conjunction with ‘transgender boobs’ (and he was beyond grateful that Harry couldn’t actually see him in that moment) which immediately brought up a gallery of shirtless women that had Liam turning bright red. “So if you want boobs,” Liam continued, forcibly averting his eyes from the clinical photos of small, pert breasts on his screen, “why don’t you want to be a real woman, or whatever?”

Harry sighed, long and loud, into Liam’s ear. “It’s not like that,” he said. “Just because I want to be more like a girl doesn’t mean I wish I hadn’t been born a boy. For some people it does, but not for me. I want to be both.”

Thinking about that made Liam’s head hurt, but he didn’t want to upset Harry any more than he had, so he decided not to comment on it. “So you want to be a boy with boobs,” he said instead.

“Yes, Liam,” Harry replied long-sufferingly. “In addition to other things.”

Liam was still a little afraid to find out what other things there could possibly be, but he supposed it would be better to ask Harry now than spend the rest of the break wondering what was meant to change in the interim. “Are you gonna pick a new name?” he wondered. “Like Alex or something?”

“What? Why Alex?”

“Well, it’s for boys and girls, innit,” Liam pointed out. He’d thought it was fairly obvious.

“Oh,” Harry replied through a stifled laugh. “No, I don’t really want to change my name, but you could call me ‘H’ more, maybe? And—” He cut himself off. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” Liam insisted. He dug his fingers into the sheets, waiting for something—he couldn’t even guess at what.

“Well,” Harry said, even more slowly than normal, “maybe when it’s just you and me you could call me ‘she’ instead of ‘he’?”

The timidness in Harry’s voice was reminiscent of the nerves from their early performances together as a band, and it instantly transported Liam back into ‘Daddy Direction’ mode. “If it makes you feel better, I can try,” he offered, even though he wasn’t altogether sure how successful he’d end up being. And Liam was more than a little worried that once he started using ‘she’ for Harry, he might end up accidentally letting it slip in front of the boys, or worse—in an interview.

The whole secrecy thing was a rather dangerous game for Harry to be playing, but Liam remembered how horrible it had been to have Harry call him up in the middle of the night, crying, and he vowed to do whatever it was he could to prevent that from happening again.

“You don’t have to,” Harry replied quietly. “I just thought I’d try it a bit.”

“I’m just worried about messing up somewhere the fans’ll see,” Liam admitted.

“I have faith in you,” Harry assured him. “And um, just so you know, I probably won’t be around for a few weeks because of personal stuff here in LA, so I’m probably gonna miss that meeting with Julian when he gets in. Send my love, okay?”

“Yeah,” Liam replied, forcing himself to ignore the weighty feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realised that he wouldn’t be seeing Harry at that meeting either. “I’ll tell him.”

“Ta. I’ve got to go now, but thanks again for being so….” Harry sighed. “Well, you know.”

Liam didn’t have any clue, really, but he nodded and mumbled out a goodbye anyway, not sure what else to say in response. After Harry had hung up, Liam stared forlornly down at his phone, feeling himself rapidly growing more embarrassed as he realised how transparently he was fawning over Harry these days.

Liam spent a few minutes convincing himself that his newfound obsession was just because he viewed Harry as a younger sibling he needed to protect. A little sister, he thought, before just as quickly wondering whether Harry would find that label offensive.

Liam tried to put Harry’s issues out of his mind after their conversation, telling himself that there was no use worrying about him—her—when she was going to be off the map for the next few weeks anyway.

That didn’t end up being strictly true.

Harry was indeed a non-entity in the media for the next several days, but then a photo popped up on the seventh: a picture taken at an airport after Harry’s return from his family vacation in Jamaica.

Louis had been meant to go on holiday with them, Liam realised with a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach. They’d planned it months ago, and for a while, it had been all Louis ever talked about. He hadn’t gone, of course. Louis had spent the holidays with his family in Doncaster instead and hadn’t breathed a word about the plan that had fallen through when he and Harry had broken up.

Shit, Liam thought to himself, another realisation following just on the cusp of the first. He had yet another one-on-one writing session with Louis tonight to go over the songs they’d submitted after their initial meeting with Julian, and Liam hadn’t even considered the fact that he now needed to hide Harry’s secret from Louis as well as the rest of the world.

Liam was horrible at keeping secrets.

He managed to keep his mind off Harry though for at least the first half of his and Louis’s time together. In fact, it wasn’t Liam who brought Harry up at all.

Louis stared down at his phone with a frown as Liam reached into the fridge for a couple beers.

“What?” Liam questioned, sensing even as he did so that it was a mistake.

“Why the fuck is Harry at a sperm bank?” Louis said incredulously. The smile curling at his face was anything but amused. He looked angry. “He looks like a proper twat trying to sneak in, too.”

Liam reached over and snatched Louis’s phone right out of his hand without even thinking about it, nearly sending the beers in his other hand smashing into the fridge door as it swung shut on him. Louis squawked in protest, but Liam ignored him, intent only on carefully examining the photo of Harry that had been left onscreen.

She did look like a bit of a twat, honestly. It was February, sure, but it was also Los Angeles, and the bulky coat and beanie made her stand out like a sore thumb as she stepped off the kerb outside a building with very conspicuous signage. She really was doing it, then.

“What the hell is your problem?” Louis demanded as he grabbed his phone back. He shot Liam a suspicious look that he failed to avoid in time.

“Nothing,” Liam replied, far too hastily. He shoved one of the beers into Louis’s hand, hoping to appease him.

Louis’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Does this have something to do with what’s crawled up Harry’s arse lately?” he asked almost tentatively.

Liam couldn’t fault him for his hesitation. Without context, none of Harry’s actions made much sense, either alone or together. “No,” Liam lied—badly.

Louis frowned as he reached past Liam to grab the bottle opener. The frown persisted for the rest of the evening, all the way up until they’d made as much progress as they were bound to make for the night.

Liam stretched, giving the signal that he’d had enough. Louis was still frowning.

“I know you know what’s going on with Harry,” Louis said.

“No, you don’t,” Liam replied automatically. He could have slapped himself for the response, but the words were already out of his mouth before he could think better of them.

Louis crossed his arms over his chest. They were sat on Liam’s bed again, because that was where they did all their best work, and the sight of him looking so stern while they were perched on top of Liam’s duvet like two kids at a slumber party provided an almost comical juxtaposition.

But Liam wasn’t laughing.

“You told me you’d find out what was wrong with him,” Louis insisted. “I have a right to know.”

Liam scooted back against the wall, putting more space between himself and Louis like that would diffuse the situation somehow. “It’s not to do with you,” Liam said slowly. “I knew about the sperm bank thing,” he admitted, which was technically true, even if was still omitting the biggest part of it—the why. “Well, I knew he was thinking about it,” he amended. “But he asked me not to tell anyone.” Liam ended his explanation with his best puppy-eyed look, hoping it would do the trick.

Louis’s eyes remained narrowed and sceptical, but he wrinkled his nose the way he did when he knew he wouldn’t win an argument and had decided to give up, a look Liam was familiar with because it occurred more often than not when Louis fought with Harry in front of the other lads.

“Are we happy with the second verse?” Louis asked instead of pressuring Liam to give in. And Liam was sure that if Louis had pushed, he would have cracked for sure.

Liam found out through the grapevine that Harry had returned to London about a week later. He couldn’t ignore his own disappointment that Harry hadn’t contacted him herself, but he was annoyed with himself for being so bothered, which only worsened his mood when he went out with Sophia again afterward.

Sophia noticed, but just like last time, Liam brushed off her concern with a lame excuse. She didn’t fight it.

Liam continued to hold out hope that he’d hear from Harry over the next few days, and this time, he didn’t have to wait long.

She’d invited him to lunch of all things, somewhere nice and public, and Liam couldn’t help but wonder at the agenda behind it. Was she trying to get him in trouble with Louis on purpose?

Still, Liam was too excited to see her again to consider refusing or even rescheduling, so he mentally braced himself for the fallout once Louis saw the headline and dressed nicely—maybe a little too nicely, he decided when he saw Harry lounging in a plain grey-green sweater and holey black jeans, already seated at the table she’d reserved at the outdoor café.

“This place has the best sandwiches,” she gushed as soon as Liam sat down. “Get the beer-braised cheese toastie; you’ll love it, trust me.”

Liam nodded, confused. Had she really brought him all the way out here just to eat lunch?

They made small talk while they waited for the food to come out. Liam learned that Harry was planning on going out again for her birthday, this time with family, and he fought hard to keep the disappointment at not being invited from showing on his face.

It was probably for the best anyway. A lunch together wasn’t too hard to write off, but Louis would be fuming if he found out that Liam had been invited to Harry’s intimate family get-together.

And it wasn’t like they’d been all that close before all this. It wasn’t like Liam deserved a space carved out in Harry’s life just for him. He wanted one, though. He just wasn’t sure why.

Liam had just barely taken a bite of his cheese toastie when Harry finally launched into the real reason that she’d invited him there.

“I got my blood results back,” she said in a low tone. She took a few sips of her iced coffee before continuing. “They said I already had fairly low levels of testosterone,” she added with a chipper smile.

Liam nodded, not really understanding. “So that’s good?” he assumed.

“Yes, Liam,” Harry replied, her voice dripping with exasperation. “It’s good. It means I shouldn’t have to take anything extra in addition to this.” She yanked up the hem of her sweatshirt, exposing a brief flash of skin as well as a flesh-coloured patch over her hip. She lowered the jumper quickly, giving Liam just a few seconds to take in what he’d seen.

“That’s the…?” Liam questioned vaguely, still a little wary of being overheard despite how secluded their table was in the far corner of the patio.

Harry nodded happily.

“Congratulations,” Liam told her. He felt a bit breathless for reasons he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “Do you feel any different yet?” he wondered.

Harry laughed, shaking her head. “It’ll be a few days before I notice anything, they said.”

Liam knew he could always go home and look up exactly what oestrogen was meant to do, but part of him wanted to experience this as it happened to Harry, without anticipating what changes were supposed to come next. He knew about the boob thing already, but he assumed that wouldn’t happen until much, much later. He wasn’t sure what more immediate differences Harry could expect to see.

His resolution started to crumble shortly after leaving the café after their lunch, but Liam had gone straight to Sophia’s afterward and didn’t want to risk Googling the effects of oestrogen patches while Sophia was literally in the room.

Liam still spent an unhealthy amount of time contemplating it though, enough so that he was still looking down at his phone when a text came through from Niall, displaying a couple laugh-crying emojis in the subject line and a link to the Daily Mail when he opened it.

Liam had already guessed what the article was about before it loaded, but he still felt a bit nauseous as he took in the headline anyway. He’d known it was a possibility that he and Harry would be photographed together—and surely Harry must have known the same, so why had she not been more discreet?

For the most part, there wasn’t anything to write about. It was standard faff about Liam and Harry’s blossoming ‘bromance’, with some manufactured blurb from a ‘trusted source’ about how Harry’s ties to the band were still holding steady despite his rivalry with Louis. If only they knew how real that rivalry now was.

But Liam wasn’t so worried about that bit. It was the set of photos below, showing Harry as she lifted her jumper to reveal the patch on her hip, that had him shifting restlessly from side to side.

“What’s wrong?” Sophia suddenly asked, cutting through Liam’s laser-focussed concentration on the article.

He glanced up at her. “Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Just tabloid shit.”

Liam looked down again and quickly skimmed the rest of the article. The Daily Mail wasn’t making any concrete claims about Harry’s patch, at least, but they were floating theories that it was either to combat a hidden nicotine addiction or that the band’s hectic schedule had Harry turning to drugs for a pick-me-up—six months ago, that wouldn’t have been too far off the mark, but things were better now.

Liam frowned as he set his phone aside, pulling Sophia a little closer instead in an attempt to both appease her and soothe himself.

Harry had never been the rebellious type, but now Liam was worried she was entering that stage. So far, her biggest ‘fuck you’ to their management had been the tattoos, but even that had been impulsive. This felt deliberate, and Liam didn’t like being a part of it one bit.

“What was the article about?” Sophia asked when their show went to commercial.

Liam reached over to grab the remote to fast forward to the next bit of plot. “Went out to lunch with H earlier,” he said carefully. “Just a load of bollocks about how Harry and Louis are fighting.”

“What does lunch with Harry have to do with Louis?” Sophia asked incredulously.

Liam shrugged without turning around.

“Was it a planned pap outing?” Sophia continued.

Liam paused, brows furrowed. The progress bar on the telly sped forward, spilling into the actual meat of the show, but it took Liam several seconds before he noticed he was now fast forwarding through it. “Shit,” he muttered, looping the recording back a couple times before finally resuming. “I don’t know,” he told Sophia as he sat back against the sofa again.

Liam didn’t know because Harry hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort, but now that Sophia had brought up the possibility, he couldn’t deny that it seemed like the most likely answer for Harry’s behaviour. They all had a certain number of pap walk quotas to meet, but Harry’s obligations had always been the most demanding. It made sense that she would use the opportunity to spin a story that didn’t revolve around romantic rumours for once. Still, if that had been the case she could have at least given Liam a heads up.

Liam tried to distract himself with the drama unfolding on the telly over the next few minutes with little success. Finally, he unwound his arm from around Sophia’s shoulders and excused himself to go to the kitchen, but once safely enshrouded in the other room, Liam pulled out his phone again, this time opening up Tumblr to see what the fans had to say about his outing with Harry.

There was a predictable amount of speculation about Harry’s patch, but all of it seemed to be along the same lines as the Daily Mail article. Liam was relieved to discover that no one seemed to even be considering alternate possibilities. He shuddered to think of what the fan reaction would be if they found out about Harry now, after a year of their PR pushing an image of Harry that was decidedly—and falsely—masculine.

The majority of the discussion seemed to be focussed on Liam himself, he was surprised to discover. Apparently, a rather dedicated group of fans were convinced that ‘Larry’ had indeed broken up (if only they knew how right they were) and that Harry had moved on to Liam instead.

Liam let out a laugh, half-muffled by his own hand as he realised it was loud enough to be heard from the sitting room.

“Babe?” Sophia questioned loudly.

Liam quickly pulled a beer out of the fridge and dashed back into the sitting room to re-join her. Once settled into the sofa again, he handed Sophia his phone to show her the rumours that had cropped up on Tumblr. “Mental, right?” he prompted as she read the post detailing Liam and Harry’s burgeoning secret romance.

Finally, Sophia looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. She wasn’t amused.

Liam found himself in a foul mood over the next day and a half. He knew not to expect an invite to Harry’s birthday festivities, but he was minged off about it anyway, and that only got worse after Harry failed to respond to his cavalier ‘have fun’ text.

Liam was prepared to take back his resentment when he woke the morning after Harry’s night out to find that he did have a text after all, only to have that hope summarily crushed when he realised it was just a group message to the band.

Then Liam nearly swallowed his own tongue when he opened the message to find a picture of Harry’s bare torso inside.

Well, not all of it. She’d lifted her shirt to her sternum, exposing her abdomen and hips. Likewise, her trousers had been pulled down dangerously low, low enough that Liam could see that she apparently shaved her pubes now, and on either side of her pelvis, there were now large laurels adorning her hipbones in bold black ink.

_You like?_ the text read. There was a winking smiley added on for flair.

Liam—not confident at the best of times in his ability to be particularly articulate—sent a thumbs up emoji back and called it good. Niall was the next to respond, with a similarly brief message of approval. Zayn was just as verbose, but added a dozen emojis as though intending to one-up the others. Only Louis didn’t respond at all.

Harry finally messaged Liam privately a few days later. _Dinner?_

Liam was over the moon. He didn’t even take a moment to second guess himself before re-scheduling his night in with Sophia.

This time, he went round to Harry’s place—which was technically Ben’s place, but thanks to something business-related, both Ben and Meri were out of the country and Harry had the house to herself.

She was still in the middle of cooking when Liam showed. He hovered nearby in the kitchen, making sure to navigate out of her way when needed. She’d refused his help, which was fine. Liam liked to cook, but he was just as content to enjoy a bit of home-cooking provided by someone else from time to time (Sophia was awful at it).

Harry was making enchiladas. Liam sniffed the air appreciatively as he leaned back against the counter, watching Harry bend over to put the tray in the oven. “No parties?” he asked her jokingly.

Harry turned to give him a wry smile and closed the oven door. She had oven mitts on as well as an apron, which Liam thought was overkill, but it was cute, so he didn’t criticise it, even jokingly.

“This doesn’t count as a party?” Harry asked, cocking her hip to one side.

Liam raised his eyebrows. “Usually house parties involve a bit more alcohol,” he said pointedly.

Harry rolled her eyes but turned around to get some wine out of the cabinet. Liam had been hoping for something a little harder, since he’d felt oddly keyed up ever since he’d arrived and wanted to come down a bit, but wine-drunk wasn’t bad either.

It didn’t escape Liam’s notice that Harry seemed tipsy after just one glass. “Is that because of the oestrogen?” he wondered, the word still feeling awkward on the tip of his tongue.

“I think so?” Harry replied with a frown. She poured herself a second glass even so. “It’s hard to tell what is and what isn’t,” she continued. “I still don’t know really what to expect since so much of it seems to differ from person to person.”

“What have you noticed, then?” Liam asked, hiding his face behind the rim of his wineglass as he took another calculated sip.

“Skin stuff, mostly,” Harry told him. “Like, I keep bruising myself on everything, but I’m not breaking out as much, which is nice.” She made a face. “Lou will be pleased about that,” she muttered.

Liam frowned sympathetically. Harry’s acne had been the worst out of the lot, and both she and Lou had struggled with trying to combat it as much as possible—or hide it when that was no longer an effective option. Her face did look a little clearer already, he noticed.

“Is that it so far?” he asked.

Harry’s face suddenly pinked up a bit. “Well, no,” she replied cagily. “I guess…I feel like I smell different?” she confessed. “It’s not bad or anything, but I notice it all the time. It’s weird.”

Liam cocked his head to the side. “Do you think I’d be able to smell it?” he asked without thinking. It was only after the words had come out of his mouth that he realised how creepy it was, asking to smell Harry, like she was a science experiment.

She didn’t look offended, though. “Yeah, all right,” she said, nodding. She opened her arms, beckoning Liam forward.

He wasn’t sure at first where exactly he was meant to smell her, but he ended up settling for something that resembled a normal hug, his nose pressed against the side of her neck. Liam breathed in deep, trying to reconcile the scent of her skin with what he remembered of Harry’s smell from before.

“I think I see what you mean,” Liam told her once he’d broken away, though he didn’t really. She smelt good, though, and there was something about it that reminded him a bit of the way Sophia smelled when they woke up together and she hadn’t had a chance to shower yet.

Harry smiled a bit knowingly and shook her head. “Can you go put on the movie while I finish up?”

Liam had promised Harry a few hours of his evening to eat and watch a film with her. It was a romcom, something that had come out while they’d been on tour. He assumed Harry hadn’t gotten the chance to watch it yet. But when Liam turned on the telly and looked up the film Harry had asked for, he was surprised to find that it was already in progress. Liam pressed play and was met with the credits already rolling. He turned toward the kitchen, confused.

“Did you already watch this?” Liam called out.

Harry popped her head into the sitting room a few seconds later. She glanced over at the credits onscreen and blushed. “Um, just the ending,” she admitted. “I don’t like not knowing what happens.”

Liam squinted at her in confusion, but before he could ask anything else, she disappeared into the kitchen once again. He turned back to the telly and finished setting up the film before heading into Harry’s bathroom to take a quick piss.

He set his phone on the counter next to the sink as he did his business, and then stared at it a bit suspiciously while he washed his hands. Louis had never replied to Harry’s photo of her tattoos, and he’d even ignored Liam’s inquiry about scheduling another song-writing session before rehearsals. Liam couldn’t help but wonder if the reason was the photos of his lunch date with Harry. He left the phone in the bathroom, not wanting the weight of it to distract him over dinner.

Harry was just opening the oven back up when Liam walked into the kitchen again. She only had on one mitt this time, the other holding open the door precariously while the timer beeped at her.

Liam rushed over to help, but she’d already pulled the enchilada tray out of the oven by the time he made it to her side. She turned to face him, startled, and then jumped a foot in the air as her face twisted up in a mask of pain.

“What?” Liam asked frantically. “Are you all right?”

Harry clamped a hand over her forearm, just below her elbow, and hissed through gritted teeth. “God, that _hurts_ ,” she said, sounding almost surprised by it.

It only took Liam a few seconds to figure out that she must have burned her arm on the corner of the tray when she turned around. He carefully pried her fingers away from the injury and let out a quiet hiss of sympathy as he caught sight of the small patch of blistered skin.

“Sorry,” he remarked as he steered Harry over to the sink. He turned on the cold water and pulled her arm underneath it with another pained wince, as if he were the one who had burned himself. Still, Liam was surprised when he glanced up at Harry’s face to find tears in her eyes.

Harry caught him looking and swiped a quick hand over them to mop up the blossoming moisture. “God, I feel like a mess,” she said.

“You usually don’t cry when you get hurt,” Liam said observationally, trying to make it clear from his tone that he wasn’t passing judgment.

Harry nodded. “It feels different now,” she said vaguely. “The pain, I mean. Getting the laurels done hurt like a bitch. This is definitely worse, though,” she remarked, nodding down at where Liam’s fingers were dug into her arm, framing the burn marring her skin. “How long am I meant to keep it under there?” she wondered. “The food’s going to get cold.”

“Oh, um.” Liam hadn’t given much thought to the fact that he was still holding on tight to Harry, with no plan of letting go anytime soon. He released her. “Keep it there for a bit longer,” he advised. “Where are your plasters?”

Harry pointed out the medicine cupboard, and Liam busied himself with finding a suitable bandage to dress her wound with. He settled for one of the plain beige plasters just because they were slightly larger than the pink ones Harry also owned, and after carefully drying Harry’s arm, Liam placed the plaster over the burn.

“All better?” Harry questioned with a soft smile.

Liam nodded dumbly. “Seems like,” he finally managed. “Does it still hurt?”

Harry shrugged. “A bit,” she admitted. “I’m fine, though.” She stepped away from the counter and moved back toward the oven to dish up their enchiladas. “You can start the movie,” she told Liam without turning around. “I’ll bring the plates in.”

Liam nodded again even though Harry couldn’t see him before spinning around to go back into the sitting room, where the film was paused on a black screen. He pressed play and curled up on one corner of the couch, staring blankly ahead as the title cards started to appear.

Harry came out of the kitchen with their plates in her hands before the introductory scene had zoomed in on the main characters. Liam allowed himself to be distracted for a moment with taking his enchiladas from her, and when he turned back toward the telly again, he was started to find that the heroine onscreen looked very much like Harry herself.

He didn’t comment on it. They ate in silence, and the movie was moderately enjoyable for Liam at least, though he couldn’t quite tell how Harry felt about it by the time the credits started to roll again.

She turned her head and blinked sleepily at Liam as he leaned over to turn the lights back up. “You could stay longer,” Harry offered, and there was an odd note to her voice that Liam couldn’t figure out.

He shook his head regretfully. “Gotta meet Sophia,” he reminded Harry. “Maybe another time?”

Harry didn’t acknowledge the attempt at a rain check. Her face twisted a bit unpleasantly as she sat up. “Right,” she said. “Sorry, I forgot.” Harry reached over and grabbed for Liam’s plate and then hurried back into the kitchen.

Liam lingered on the sofa long enough to listen as the water in the sink started to run before patting his pockets for his phone, intending to text Sophia to let her know he was on his way. It took him several seconds of slightly panicked confusion to remember that he’d left his phone on the counter in Harry’s bathroom before they’d started the film.

It was dead, Liam realised upon retrieving it. He swore under his breath and darted out of the bathroom only to bump straight into Harry in the hallway. She let out a muffled cry of pain; Liam reached out to steady her, and for a moment there was a tense atmosphere that descended, almost suffocating Liam as he looked straight into Harry’s eyes.

“Thanks for dinner,” he finally told her. “Sorry I have to cut and run.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks for…” she started, “everything else.”

Liam wasn’t sure if he was meant to hug her, but she solved that dilemma for him, wrapping her arms around his waist tight like she was the shorter of the two of them. He curled his own arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze back, not letting go until she’d broken the embrace herself.

“See you,” Liam said uncertainly. The farewell felt incomplete for some reason.

Harry only nodded again, this time without replying at all. She almost looked like she might cry.

Liam put the strangeness of the afternoon out of his mind and quickly hurried back to his own flat. He’d gotten his driver’s licence at the end of January and had been making hearty use of it since then. It was a blessing on days like today when he had multiple obligations and little idea of when he would need to be chauffeured from place to place.

But being able to drive himself didn’t negate the hassle of getting caught up in traffic, which is where Liam found himself halfway between the Winstons’ and his flat. He hadn’t bothered to put a charger in his car yet—he was regretting that moment of laziness now as he stared at the blank screen of his phone sat on the passenger seat, the device totally useless.

Liam had been intending on cleaning up the flat a bit before Sophia came over, but thanks to the delay on the way back, he arrived to find the door already unlocked and Sophia’s heels placed neatly on the rack just inside the entryway.

She was sat in his room, not the sofa where he’d expected her to be. She looked predictably annoyed, but there was a stiffness to her posture that immediately set off alarm bells in Liam’s head. Whatever was wrong wasn’t to do with the fact that he was late.

“My phone died,” he explained anyway as he started to undress. It was still the polite thing to do even if he knew it wouldn’t help. “You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

Sophia shook her head when he looked over at her again. “I think we should take a break,” she said without introduction.

Liam froze in the middle of unbuttoning his coat. “Oh,” he said quietly. It took him a minute to remember that he probably should’ve been more surprised. “Why?” he asked, genuinely wondering at the reason. It wasn’t like they’d been fighting lately.

Sophia shook her head. Her hands were folded in her lap; she stared down at them expressionlessly as she spoke. “You’re really distant lately,” she said. “It makes me feel—” She stopped, and Liam opened his mouth to respond, but she didn’t give him a chance. “At first, I thought you were cheating on me, but now…. I guess it’s just work?” Sophia glanced up at him, looking for confirmation.

Liam nodded, unsure of what he was meant to say. It wasn’t like he could tell her the real reason for his pre-occupation.

“What made you change your mind?” Liam wondered. “About the cheating?”

Sophia went a bit red. “I went through your stuff,” she admitted. “I thought—I shouldn’t have done it, but I was just scared.”

Liam nodded again. He found that he was less upset than he should’ve been at knowing Sophia had been snooping through his personal belongings. But then again, it wasn’t like he had anything to hide. Besides Harry.

“Look, I care about you a lot,” Sophia continued earnestly. “And I can do the long-distance thing, Li, but not if you’re not really here even when you’re here.”

“Okay,” Liam told her, still nodding. “I understand. Really.”

Sophia looked less relieved than he would’ve expected. Maybe she’d been banking on him putting up a fight. But Liam didn’t have the energy for it. And he didn’t have any way to explain himself without betraying Harry’s confidence.

“Okay,” Sophia parroted as she stood up. She hugged Liam before she left, but it didn’t feel like anything at all.

Liam was pretty certain now that no matter what happened in the next few weeks, they wouldn’t be getting back together again.

Liam walked her out of the flat before immediately returning to his bedroom to sack out flat on his back on the bed. His phone was still dead, he realised. He leaned over to plug it into the wall and then called Louis as soon as there was enough charge available to turn it back on.

It went straight to voicemail.

Liam didn’t bother leaving a message. He called Zayn instead.

“What’s up?” Zayn asked after answering on the second ring. There was music in the background, something low and bassy that Liam couldn’t make out.

“Sophia and I broke up,” Liam replied bluntly. He realised as he was saying it that he wasn’t actually upset about it at all, even though the actual words felt strange coming out of his mouth. He’d only called Louis (and then Zayn) because that was what he was supposed to do. It’s what he’d done after his last break-up, when Louis had practically had to glue him back together because he was so torn up about losing her.

But Liam didn’t think that it was Sophia that was the problem anymore. It was him.

“You don’t seem too heartbroken,” Zayn replied, picking up on the lack of emotion in Liam’s tone immediately.

“No, I guess I’m not, really,” Liam said.

“Well, then it’s probably a good thing that you’re splitting, right?” Zayn pointed out. “And think about it this way,” he continued, “now you can actually get laid while we’re on tour instead of crying alone in your hotel room for six months.”

Liam forced out a laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe you’re right.”


	4. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr:@vondrostes

Liam was pleasantly surprised when Harry suddenly started coming to him for every little thing shortly after their dinner together, even though she’d more or less ignored him for most of the past two months.

Harry’s first major dilemma was about her appearance. She wanted to experiment while she still could—because they were just about to start another tour, and she wouldn’t have the chance while they were being paraded around the world in outfits they all had little to no say in.

Liam cut Harry off halfway through her ranting over the phone and offered to come over, hoping even as he did so that he wasn’t being too presumptuous about it.

“Please,” she replied with a grateful sigh. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Liam was holed up with Harry in Ben Winston’s attic within the hour.

Harry had already pulled most of her clothes from the closet and draped them over every available surface by the time Liam arrived. Currently, she was lying on a pile of wrinkled t-shirts, nearly naked except for a pair of very tight briefs and an over-large vintage tee.

Liam was surprised still by her lack of self-consciousness despite what she’d said to Dr Slora. Maybe because she and Liam were just friends, she didn’t mind so much being nearly nude around him. Still, he did his best not to let his eyes stray toward the soft bulge at her crotch. It would’ve been rude, after all.

“Girls wear t-shirts and jeans all the time,” Liam pointed out.

“I don’t want to wear t-shirts and jeans,” Harry grumbled.

“Then what do you want?” Liam questioned.

Harry sighed. “I don’t know!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. “None of it makes me _look_ like a girl.”

Truthfully, Liam thought that Harry looked like a girl most of the time without even trying, but he didn’t think that was the sentiment she needed to hear right now, so he kept it to himself.

“You could try makeup?” he offered.

Harry rolled over onto her face with an irritable grunt. Liam moved over to the bed and perched on the edge, tentatively rubbing her back. When she flipped over again to stare up at him, her eyes were a little bit teary, and Liam pretended not to notice.

“I want to grow out my hair,” Harry said emphatically.

Liam nodded in easy agreement. “Of course.”

“Lou’s not going to let me,” Harry said in an almost suspicious tone, like she was testing Liam somehow by his response.

Liam squinted down at her in confusion. “You got away with the tattoos,” he pointed out. “And I can tell Lou to back off if you want.”

“My knight in shining armour,” Harry said with a wry smile. She closed her eyes and shook her head a bit sadly as it faded. “I don’t think it’ll help,” she confessed. “I should probably just worry about clothes for now.”

Liam was tempted to point out that they’d been worrying about clothes for the better part of an hour already, but he managed to bite his tongue. Complaining wouldn’t help. Harry clearly wasn’t in a good mood to start with, and Liam was determined not to make it any worse.

“What kind of clothes do you want, then?” Liam tried.

Harry shrugged. “I dunno,” she said in a shy voice. “Just more feminine stuff.”

Liam clearly wasn’t going to get a clear and concise answer out of her, so he got up again to help put the closet back together as best they could before heading out to the shops together. Ben gave Liam a pointed look as they walked past him and Meredith in the dining room, but with Harry and Meri both there, it wasn’t like he could ask Liam anything about Louis and Harry’s breakup. Liam was grateful for that because he still wasn’t sure why Harry had dumped Louis, and frankly, he was far too afraid of upsetting her to ask.

Their excuse, should Ben and Meri ask, was that they were buying stuff for Sophia and stashing it in Harry’s room because it was a surprise. Liam hadn’t told Harry yet that he and Sophia had broken up, but that didn’t matter much at the moment.

They’d decided to stick to higher-end department stores mainly in the interest of anonymity. They were frequented by mostly older women, especially in the middle of the day when the majority of their fanbase would still be in school, and the shops themselves were spacious enough to give the illusion of isolation as they disappeared behind the racks of clothes to peruse the women’s section.

Liam watched Harry carefully as she ran a hand over a chiffon dress in mauve. “Just pick out whatever,” Liam said encouragingly. “You don’t have to try it on here. We can send anything that doesn’t fit back.”

Harry nodded, but her eyes were still wide with something akin to apprehension as she surveyed the array of colour choices on the rack. Finally, she pulled the mauve dress off the rack and handed it to Liam without giving it another glance.

After the first article of clothing had been chosen, it was like the floodgates had opened. Liam soon found himself with more clothes than he could reasonably carry, and he darted away from Harry temporarily to find an assistant to pack up what they’d already picked out.

When he returned, Liam found Harry staring intently at a soft floral romper with an indecipherable expression. “Want me to get that for you?” he asked with a joking smile.

Harry’s whipped around to face him suddenly, her face implying she hadn’t known he was there. “No,” she said firmly. “I wouldn’t—it’s not really my style.”

The words looked like they hurt her as she said them, and Liam couldn’t help but wonder why that outfit in particular had stumped her so completely. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anything particularly special about it. It was fairly androgynous in his opinion.

As soon as Harry’s back was turned, he pulled it off the rack and tucked it under his own coat, intending to sneak it in with her other purchases later.

They picked out a few more things here and there: some light flowy blouses with skirts to match, a couple sundresses, a rhinestone-encrusted parka that Liam privately thought was hideous but that Harry fell in love with at first sight, and by the time Harry finally called it quits, Liam was fairly certain that his arms were bound to fall off.

That didn’t stop him from commenting on the look he caught Harry giving the makeup display near the till when they brought their purchases forward to ring up.

“There’s a makeup counter right there,” Liam told her as they waited for the woman ahead of them to finish paying. “We could just buy some stuff to try out a bit.” Liam was careful to use ‘we’ instead of ‘you’. He didn’t want to put any additional pressure on Harry when she already looked on the verge of a panic attack already.

Harry nervous expression only worsened as she glanced over toward the display in question. “I wouldn’t even know how to use it,” she hissed.

“We’ll figure it out,” Liam said firmly. She was clearly scared of bollocksing it up, but it wasn’t like Liam was going to judge her if it looked a bit silly. And she was never going to get the hang of it if she didn’t have anything to practise with. “I can get it,” he offered, “if you hold the rest of this.”

Harry nodded and accepted the pile of clothing with a grateful smile.

Liam hurried over to the display and scooped up anything he thought Harry might like into a bag that had been provided. He wracked his brain, trying to remember everything that he’d seen Sophia use. He didn’t even try to mess around with the foundation stuff—that wasn’t the point of this anyway. He just wanted Harry to feel free to play around with lipstick and eyeshadow and stuff in private so she could figure out what she liked.

He ended up picking a full range of lipstick colours, a mascara wand, and a couple glittery eye shadow palettes, of which only one could be considered horribly ostentatious, in his opinion. Liam was just spinning around to head back to the till when he felt a smaller body collide with his own, nearly knocking the bag of makeup out of his hand.

He reached out to steady the other person only to come face to face with a wide-eyed young woman who was staring up at him with a familiar slack-jawed expression. Liam knew that look all-too well. “Hi,” he said with a friendly smile.

“Oh my god,” the girl whispered. “I mean—sorry, hi! Could I get a picture?”

Liam glanced over her head toward Harry, who had reached the counter and was staring at him with an impatient expression. He tried to communicate with just his eyes that Harry should go ahead without waiting for him, but he wasn’t quite sure if he’d succeeded or not.

Liam looked down at the girl again and nodded, feeling like the worst human being in the world when her face lit up in excitement even though all he wanted to do was get this over with so he could go back to Harry.

Thankfully, she didn’t try to engage him in conversation afterward. They exchanged a hug, the fan thanked him (and Liam replied in kind), and then the young woman fluttered away like she was on cloud nine.

Liam rushed to the till only to find that Harry was already gone. “Your friend is waiting outside,” the cashier told him, looking merely bored as she accepted Liam’s bag of makeup selections before starting to ring everything up.

“Thanks,” Liam told her. She didn’t even bother to respond.

The price of the makeup was well over what Liam had anticipated, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. He charged it to his credit card without a second thought and hurried outside to find Harry waiting almost in the bushes, looking far more conspicuous than she would have if she’d just stood near the doors like a normal person.

Her bags were all sat on the ground around her. Liam assumed her arms must have gotten tired while she was waiting. He reached down to pick up more than half of them after handing Harry the much smaller makeup bag to take and carefully scanned her expression for any sign that she’d found the romper he’d tried to sneak into her other purchases.

If she’d seen it, she didn’t say anything.

“Should we take these back to the car and come back for something to eat?” Liam asked. He was starting to feel the strain from the bags in his hands already, and it had only been a few seconds.

Harry nodded, her expression softening just a bit. “Indian?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course.”

They were nearly at the end of the road when Liam spotted it.

The whole goal of this trip had been to find things Harry could wear in private—for herself—since she was going to be doing anything but once the band was in full-swing again. Liam couldn’t think of anything that fit the bill better than lingerie, but the second he pointed out the storefront to Harry, all the colour abruptly drained from her face.

“No,” she said in a hard voice.

“But—”

“ _No_.”

Liam dropped it. The rest of the walk back to the car was spent in silence. For a few minutes, Liam was worried that he’d ruined the mood entirely and that Harry would ask to be taken home instead of fulfilling the rest of their plans for the afternoon.

But she morphed back into her usual chipper self once the bags were loaded into the boot, however, practically skipping into the Indian restaurant nearby after they’d gotten rid of their unexpectedly heavy burdens. She seemed even more excited as they ate, in fact, than she had while they’d been shopping, and Liam wondered if she was finally starting to feel a bit of that adrenaline high now that her nerves were no longer cancelling it out.

Liam enjoyed this Harry, the one who was free and bubbly and didn’t care if she sounded weird when she laughed. He laughed along with her, and they were both in a much better mood when they drove back to Ben’s.

Then came the hard part.

“I don’t know where to start,” Harry admitted as she stared down at the piles of clothes she’d just purchased.

Liam gazed down at them for a moment as well, and finally plucked a mustard-yellow dress out of the pile. He thrust the item at Harry, refusing to budge until she’d taken it.

“I can turn around if you want,” Liam prodded once a few seconds had passed in which Harry just stared at the dress without moving.

She rolled her eyes at him and finally pulled off her shirt, revealing a bare torso underneath that Liam couldn’t help but stare at. It didn’t look any different, he thought, at least not in any way that was particularly noticeable. She certainly hadn’t sprouted C-cup breasts overnight. The only real difference was the laurels on her hips, something Liam hadn’t had the luxury to glimpse in full until now.

“They’re pretty,” he said vaguely as Harry pulled the dress down over her head without removing her jeans.

Her head popped through the neck-hole, her hair rumpled and expression one of adorable confusion. “What?” she asked.

“Your tattoos,” Liam replied, feeling a little embarrassed now after the fact. He hadn’t really meant to blurt out the compliment in the first place, and he’d expected Harry to just take it in stride. “I like them.”

“Oh,” Harry said. Her face went a little pink as she tugged the dress down so that the waistline sat just right. “Thanks. Help zip me up?” She turned to give Liam access to the back of the dress. It was a perfect fit.

“Well,” Liam pronounced as she gave a little twirl. “One down, fifty million to go.”

It was an exaggeration that started to feel like a reality the longer Liam spent reclining on Harry’s bed while she tried out her myriad of new outfits. She made her way through the dresses first while Liam gave his honest opinion on everything. He took anything that didn’t fit and set it aside while Harry put the things that did fit safely inside her closet.

After the dresses were the skirts. Liam raised an eyebrow as Harry tried to fit the first one on over her jeans. She met his eyes and sighed loudly before finally peeling them off.

Liam wasn’t sure what the big deal was since she’d just had her shirt off in front of him and they’d seen each other naked or nearly so a million times before, but she wrinkled her nose in displeasure as she pulled down her trousers before tossing them in the corner with a disdainful look toward her own legs.

“It looks weird,” she muttered to herself as she turned to get a look at the skirt in the long mirror next to her dresser.

“What does?” Liam asked, genuinely clueless.

Harry gestured to her legs as if the answer was plain to see. It took Liam nearly a minute to figure out that she meant the hair dusting them below the hem of the skirt, thickest on her shins but not overly so. She certainly didn’t have as much hair as Liam or the other boys did.

“I thought you were against gender norms and all that,” Liam pointed out.

Harry gave him a look of clear annoyance at having her own words thrown back in her face. “I just don’t like how it looks on me,” she retorted. “But if I shaved, someone would probably notice, so….”

“Right,” Liam agreed. “Well, I think you still look nice,” he added.

Harry’s mouth curved into a soft smile just before she turned around again to put on the next article of clothing.

Finally, the only thing left on the bed was the romper that Harry had seemed so conflicted over in the shop. She stared at it for a few seconds, her expression unreadable, while Liam sat waiting in anxious silence. Finally, she picked it up and disappeared into the bathroom without saying a word.

Liam waited for Harry to emerge, curious to find out how the item would look on her, but when the door opened again, she was dressed in her casual clothes again and her expression was just as much of a mystery as before.

“Did it fit?” Liam wondered.

Harry just nodded and disappeared into the closet to hang the romper up with the rest.

Liam found himself being gently kicked out of Ben’s house shortly thereafter, with a quick kiss on the cheek from Harry that had him feeling flushed the whole drive home. She didn’t contact him again in the next few days, and Liam didn’t even make an attempt to text her first, because he already knew if he did that she wouldn’t reply.

Liam met up with both Louis and Zayn before the week was up, and the first thing he noticed upon walking into Louis’s flat was that he’d gotten a new tattoo on his arm, in the same exact place Harry had just gotten her anatomical heart.

“Bro,” Liam said, stopping short in the entryway to gawp at the arrow inked on Louis’s skin.

Zayn started laughing before Liam could even explain why he was so surprised, and judging from the sour look on Louis’s face, they must have had this discussion already before Liam got there.

“Please tell me you didn’t—” Liam started to say, only to be cut off by Zayn mid-sentence.

“Oh, he did.”

Louis glared at them both. “It’s a coincidence,” he replied in an overly defensive tone that told Liam it wasn’t anything of the sort. “Look, let’s just not talk about it, all right?”

He seemed testy enough that Liam didn’t dare push him, and Zayn must have thought the same thing, because he immediately dropped the subject of Louis’s tattoo as well and changed topics to footie instead.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that Liam found himself getting distracted midway through a game of FIFA by his discussion with Harry about growing out her hair.

“Do you think Lou would make Harry cut h—his hair for tour?” he wondered, just barely catching himself on the pronoun slip-up he’d been so worried about before.

Zayn glanced at Liam quizzically before exchanging a loaded look with Louis. “I thought he was just lazy,” Zayn confessed. “He actually wanted that mullet?”

“I don’t think he wants the mullet,” Liam replied patiently. “It’s just the way it ended up.”

“Well, how long does he want it, then?” Zayn asked. “Because Modest’ll probably get involved if it starts to get too out of hand.”

Liam hadn’t asked Harry how long she actually wanted it, but he could guess that it probably wasn’t a conventionally-accepted length for a young man being marketed to teenage girls and their parents. “I dunno,” he finally answered. “Pretty long, I think. It’s the rockstar thing, innit?”

Louis snorted, finally breaking his silence for the first time since Liam had brought Harry up again. “Too bad we’re popstars, then,” he said, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in his tone.

Liam ignored him. Zayn did, too.

“Look,” Zayn continued, “if Harry’s really set on growing his out, I’ll back his play. The stylists were unbearable last tour; if we all band together on it, they’ll probably let it go like they did with the tattoos, right?”

Liam nodded enthusiastically. Louis was less ready to agree, but finally, after enduring Zayn and Liam’s insistent stares, he nodded with a put-upon sigh.

Zayn had to leave first at the end of the night thanks to his car service, which gave Liam the unfortunate opportunity to confront Louis one-on-one about Harry.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Liam asked, although he already knew the answer.

“No,” Louis replied sharply. He narrowed his eyes. “What’s with you and Harry anyway?” he asked, bracing his hands against the countertop as he leaned back to stare at Liam, who was elbow deep in a packet of crisps in Louis’s kitchen.

“What do you mean?” Liam asked, stuffing his mouth full again to avoid blabbering unnecessarily.

Louis shrugged as if he couldn’t care less about the answer, but it was evident in the tense lines of his posture that his feigned nonchalance couldn’t be further from the truth. “You seem surprisingly close all of a sudden,” he replied.

“Why is it a surprise?” Liam asked. “We’re all friends, aren’t we?”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “Harry’s not,” he pointed out, and well—Liam couldn’t exactly argue that point.

Harry had been best friends with Louis, at least, at the beginning of the band, but ever since she’d met Nick, things had definitely cooled off between her and the rest of them. But it wasn’t like she’d ever been outright unfriendly, at least until now. And Liam still had no clue why that was, though he was beginning to suspect it had something to do with her gender stuff, because everything seemed to come back to that in the end.

But that wasn’t his business to tell Louis about.

Liam shrugged. “He’s stopped hanging out so much with Grimshaw and them, hasn’t he?” he replied. “Maybe he’s just bored.” It was a flimsy excuse, one Liam was confident Louis had seen straight through, but he didn’t receive any sort of argument in response. So that was that.

Liam had half-expected that Harry would go back to LA to spend the rest of the break in peace, but she didn’t. Instead, Liam found himself at her beck and call over the next couple weeks, mostly in the form of just casually hanging out at Liam’s flat.

She didn’t even question the lack of Sophia’s presence, and Liam didn’t enlighten her. For the most part, they just played video games together, or watched films, or basically anything else that didn’t require much more energy than simply existing.

Harry would sometimes dress up in the clothes she’d bought with Liam, but mostly she would come over dressed in distinctly boyish gym clothes, and she’d stay that way, with the exception of the thin headbands she used to keep her hair back.

After a while, the pattern started to confuse Liam, who’d thought that he was meant to be thinking of Harry as a girl all the time, and that she wanted to be a girl around him. Even though he’d been on the receiving end of many a lecture courtesy of Harry about how clothes didn’t have a gender, she had made it a point to actually go out and purchase clothing for the sole purpose of looking more girly.

Finally, after a particularly boyish day on which Harry didn’t bother to shave her face or put much effort into her appearance at all, Liam broke his silence. “Am I meant to be thinking of you as a girl or a boy?” he asked, wondering if he was failing to pick up on some sort of subtle signal that she was switching between the two on a daily basis.

Liam had recently learned that some people did that, and that other people didn’t feel like they had a gender at all, and though he didn’t really understand any of it, he wanted to be respectful at least and not make Harry feel uncomfortable by acting the wrong way around her.

Harry tilted her head back to stare at him quizzically. “What?” she asked, letting herself become distracted just long enough to get killed in-game. “Shit.” She paused it. “What are you talking about?” she asked again, making Liam fidget uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“Well,” Liam said uncertainly, “you said you’re not just a girl, right? So I was wondering if you wanted me to refer to you as a boy sometimes, still. Like, when you’re not dressed up or whatever.”

Harry frowned. “Why can’t I just be a boy who’s a girl, too?” she asked.

Liam stared blankly at her, trying futilely to process the answer she’d given. “I don’t really get it,” he finally admitted.

Harry sighed and climbed off the bed. She reached for Liam’s hand, and he gave it unquestioningly, allowing her to pull him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she finally let go of him to go to the cupboards instead. Liam watched her rummage around a bit before she finally set out a single glass and a packet of food dye in multiple colours that Liam hadn’t even realised he’d owned. Maybe Sophia had bought it. She’d always been more keen on baking than him.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked as Harry filled the glass full of water at the tap.

Harry lifted her brows teasingly but didn’t answer. She set the now-full glass back down on the counter top and opened the dye packet instead, pulling out the little container of blue colouring first. “Let’s say my favourite colour is purple,” she said as she popped off the top.

“ _My_ favourite colour is purple,” Liam replied automatically.

Harry looked up at him like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes. “Liam, it’s a hypothetical,” she explained.

“Oh,” Liam said. “Sorry.”

Harry gave a little exasperated shake of her head before continuing. “So my favourite colour is purple,” she said again. “And my second favourite colour is red.” She lifted the container of blue dye and shook it meaningfully, staring straight at Liam as she spoke. “My least favourite colour,” she said, “is blue. But you need at least a little blue to get the right shade of purple, right?”

“Right,” Liam replied, even though he had no idea what was happening.

“The problem,” Harry continued as she turned the blue container over and squirted a few drops into the water glass until it was a deep cerulean, “is that everyone is always putting blue into my glass, and once it’s there, I can’t get rid of it. You understand?”

Liam didn’t, not really, but he nodded anyway.

“So when there’s too much blue, you have to add even more red to make it my favourite shade of purple again.” Harry plucked the red dye out of the packet next and added a bit into the glass. As she’d explained, it took nearly twice the amount of drops to turn the water from indigo to a reddish-violet. “But if there’s less blue to start with,” Harry explained, maintaining eye contact with Liam again as if trying to ascertain whether he was really comprehending the practical example, “then you don’t need as much red to balance it out.”

Liam nodded again even though he was still struggling to figure out exactly what she was trying to say. “So if you don’t have to be a boy as much,” Liam said slowly, “then you don’t need to be extra girly to make up for it?”

Harry nodded her approval with a tight smile. “You got it,” she said. “I already know I can count on you,” she told him, “so I don’t really have to worry so much about what I look like. And the oestrogen helps a bit, too. I just…feel more like myself, I guess.”

Liam’s face warmed a bit at her praise. He reached over without thinking to hug her, wanting to give her just that extra bit of physical reassurance, and realised too late that the full glass of coloured water was still sat between them. Liam knocked it onto the counter with his elbow, just barely managing to catch the thing before it shattered on the floor, but there was no saving Harry’s white t-shirt and grey cotton joggers, which endured a thorough dousing of purple liquid even as she jumped back with a gasp.

“Shit,” Liam said, staring at the stain in shock as it rapidly spread across her clothes. “Sorry.”

“Oh, um—” Harry seemed to be in a similar state of shock as she stared down at the mess he’d made of her clothes. “It’s not a big deal but—I’m kind of wet now?” She looked up at Liam expectantly.

It took Liam a moment to sift through the lavender-coloured haze that had suddenly permeated his brain. Finally, he caught up to what she’d said. “Right,” Liam said brightly. “Right, yeah, sports clothes are in the bottom of the dresser,” he told her. “I’ll clean this up while you change.”

Liam mopped up the mess splattered all over the countertops and the floor while still in a bit of a daze. He wasn’t sure why the atmosphere between them had suddenly shifted again after two weeks in which they’d been more than comfortable together. But he wasn’t sure the change was altogether unpleasant, either.

It got worse when Harry walked back into the kitchen again wearing Liam’s own clothes: a baggy jumper and some athletic shorts that had been pulled up higher on her waist than Liam would have worn them himself. He froze for a moment, just staring at her while she stared nervously back, her fingers tugging at the hem of the jumper like she was itching to cover herself with it.

Liam’s brain was slow to process why he was having such an unexpectedly strong reaction to the sight of Harry in his gym clothes. Harry had worn her own gym clothes—her ‘boy clothes’—nearly every day she’d come over, and Liam had never felt this off-balance then. He was used to seeing her in baggy shorts and oversized sweatshirts.

Liam wasn’t used to seeing Harry wearing _his_ clothes, though.

Suddenly, he realised that the churning feeling in his stomach was akin to the way he’d felt the first time he’d seen Sophia in one of his shirts after they’d slept together. Liam spun around quickly, feeling his face starting to heat up. He’d already stared at Harry uncomfortably for far too long, and he didn’t want to risk betraying his reaction to her by continuing to ogle.

Harry was stood right behind him after he’d turned around again to toss the dirty paper towel into the bin. “Can you paint my nails?” she asked innocently. There was nothing in her expression to indicate she’d taken stock of Liam’s unusual reaction to her appearance.

Liam nodded and allowed her to lead him into the dining room, where she’d already set up the nail varnish she wanted: a shimmery mint green that Liam thought would accentuate her eyes—and Liam had to swallow down those words before they erupted from his lips, entirely unsolicited.

They were both quiet as Liam carefully painted her nails, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. There was something therapeutic about such a meticulous task, he thought afterwards. His brain felt all fuzzy in a good way when they sat on the sofa together to eat and watch a film after Harry’s nails had dried.

Harry fell asleep right there curled up next to him, and Liam stared at her for a long time after the credits had finished rolling, wondering if he should wake her or leave her there to sleep.

He ended up doing neither. Harry didn’t wake even when Liam slid his hands underneath her back and knees to lift her into a bridal carry, jolting a little at the unexpected weight. She was thin, but still fairly solid. Carrying her into his bedroom wasn’t easy, but Liam managed it somehow. Harry was a deep enough sleeper that she didn’t so much as stir during the journey.

It was only after he’d gently laid her down that Harry turned to snuggle into one of the pillows, and Liam felt a pang deep within his gut as he watched her. He pulled the covers up over her and quickly retreated into the living room to make up his own bed out on the sofa.

Things were different the next time they hung out together, but surprisingly, it wasn’t Liam’s fault this time.

Harry was clearly in a weird mood from the moment she arrived at his front door, her face twisted up into an almost-scowl that Liam was afraid to ask about when she breezed past him and walked straight into his bedroom without saying a word.

Liam made small talk while they loaded up GTA; Harry providing only the minimal responses required to keep the conversation going.

Finally, Liam couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s with you?” he demanded as he set down his controller, not even caring that they were still mid-drive and that his car was probably going to end up in the sea.

Harry didn’t react right away. Finally, she put her own controller down and turned to face Liam with a quiet sigh. “I’m horny,” she said matter-of-factly, which was about the last thing Liam expected to come out of her mouth.

Liam was dumbfounded. He felt his mouth open, but no sound came out, because he couldn’t even think of an adequate response to her statement. It wasn’t like Liam was a prude. He and the other lads had never shied away from talking about wanking, especially in the early days of the band when they’d been forced to share hotel rooms and a tour bus for weeks on end. It was just an unavoidable fact of life. But it felt different now. Harry wasn’t one of the lads anymore.

“Why don’t you just…take care of it?” Liam asked weakly after several seconds had gone by.

Harry shook her head as she turned around to face the telly again. She picked up the controller in her hands with a death-grip, white-knuckling the damn thing while she booted Liam’s character out of the driver’s seat so she could replace him.

Liam stared at her, ignoring the fact that his in-game avatar was now standing smack in the middle of a busy motorway.

“I don’t know how,” Harry grumbled.

Liam’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You don’t—what?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Getting hard is like, impossible,” she confessed, pink-cheeked and obviously embarrassed now. “Like, I’m still horny but I can’t actually do anything about it, you know?”

Liam nodded dumbly even though he absolutely didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. This wasn’t how he’d foreseen his evening going. Eventually, he reached down to pick up his controller again, which is exactly when Harry dropped her next bombshell.

“And my nipples hurt like a bitch,” Harry complained, halting Liam in his tracks. “They’re sore all the time, and wearing clothes makes it worse, and nothing seems to make it any better.” She let out a loud huff and set her controller down again. She glanced back at Liam. “I think the pain makes me hornier, too,” she said as casual as could be. “It’s like a never-ending cycle.”

Liam wasn’t sure what to do with himself when she suddenly pulled her shirt up over her head, exposing her torso and the noticeably swollen buds under her nipples that most definitely had not been there before.

Liam instinctively clapped a hand over his eyes like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have. He heard Harry laugh, but he didn’t drop his hand.

“You saw me shirtless like two weeks ago,” Harry pointed out.

And objectively, she was right. And Liam knew she was right, but that didn’t change the fact that seeing her shirtless now felt different in a way he didn’t want to think about too hard. He was her friend, he reminded himself. He was supposed to be her moral support.

“Yeah,” Liam finally replied in a choked voice, “but you didn’t have tits then.”

Harry just laughed even harder.


	5. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

April was predictably busy.

The first week was filled with last minute preparations for the upcoming tour: rehearsals, fittings, and meetings, meetings, meetings.

Liam did his best to keep an eye on Harry throughout the bulk of their time together, but he couldn’t protect her from everything. His first encounter with the reality of the situation came a few days in, after their initial style tests, which had all been conducted one-on-one with different members of their team to save some time.

Liam exited his dressing room and quickly set out in search of the others. They were planning to grab dinner together after they finished up, and seeing as it was going to be Harry’s first time interacting with Louis since before the holidays, Liam wanted to make sure that everything was set to proceed with a minimal amount of conflict between them.

The last thing he expected to find when he walked into Harry’s dressing room, however, was Harry herself sat alone on the sofa, crying energetically into her t-shirt.

Liam darted to her side immediately and wrapped an arm around her. She buried her face in his shirt instead. Liam was fully aware that he’d have a rather prominent stain afterward to explain away, but right at that moment he didn’t have the capacity to care.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

Harry shook her head, but her sobs seemed to already be subsiding a bit. “It’s stupid,” she muttered into his chest once she was coherent enough to form words again.

“It’s not stupid,” Liam reassured her even though he still didn’t know what ‘it’ was.

Harry sucked in a shaky breath. “Lou told me I have to cut my hair,” she managed, glancing up at him with still-teary eyes. “She said it’s a mess and it’s only going to get worse and that I’ll look like a train wreck on tour if I don’t.”

Liam curbed the impulse to respond to what Lou had said. Harry didn’t need him to fight a battle with someone who wasn’t even there. “What did you tell her?” he asked instead.

Harry squirmed a little in Liam’s arms. “That I’d think about it,” she said miserably.

“You don’t have to,” Liam was quick to reassure her. “I already asked Zayn and Louis, and they’ll fight Lou and management on it if you want.” He spared a moment to wonder if he’d overstepped his bounds somehow in recruiting Louis and Zayn’s help without asking permission first, but Harry just looked inordinately grateful as she stared up at him, her tears finally vanishing for good.

“Louis said that?” Harry asked, sounding oddly surprised by the revelation that he would even bother coming to her defence.

Liam didn’t like the implications of her reaction one bit, but it wasn’t the right time to address it. Gently, Liam extricated himself from Harry’s hold, but he kept his hand in hers as he got up from the couch.

“I’ll go talk to Lou with them,” he told her. “Okay?” He wouldn’t step in if she wasn’t completely comfortable with it.

Harry hesitated just a moment, and then finally nodded. “Okay,” she said.

Liam was on the warpath as he made his way through the corridor toward Louis and Zayn’s dressing rooms at the very end of the hall. He was surprised to find both of them inside Zayn’s already, but not unpleasantly so—having them both there made things easier. He tossed a glare at the stylist who was still tidying up at the mirror, sending her skittering toward the door without having to be asked.

“What’s your problem?” Zayn asked curiously.

It wasn’t like Liam to act out toward any of the employees involved in the never-ending circus that was One Direction, and later he knew he’d feel bad about. Right now, he was too angry to care.

“Lou’s trying to guilt Harry into letting her cut his hair,” Liam informed the both of them bluntly.

Zayn raised his eyebrows in surprise. Louis’s expression didn’t change at all.

“How are we doing this, then?” Zayn asked.

Liam shouldn’t have been surprised that he was expected to call the shots—because it had been his idea after all—but now that he was faced with the immediate responsibility, Liam found himself balking at the prospect of confronting Lou. Usually, when they came at management as a team, it was always Louis who came in hard, while Liam provided support when necessary.

On rarer occasions, Zayn had taken the lead on arguing that their stylists’ choices didn’t fit his image as the mysterious bad boy, but in this case, Liam was trying to argue the exact opposite. Short hair fit exactly the image Modest wanted Harry to sell—but it wasn’t what Harry wanted for herself.

“I don’t know,” Liam finally admitted. He felt a bit guilty at how little help he really was when it came right down to it. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

Zayn sighed, but the expression on his face seemed to indicate he’d been expecting Liam’s non-answer. “I’ll handle it, if you want,” he offered.

Liam nodded gratefully.

Louis followed them both out of the dressing room without uttering a single word, either for or against their plan. It was impossible to tell from his expression how he really felt.

They found Lou hanging out in one of the break rooms, alone, with a cup of tea clutched between her palms. She stared suspiciously at the three boys as they walked in, and Liam couldn’t fault her scepticism. He knew they must have looked confrontational to begin with despite having not said anything yet.

“What is it this time?” Lou asked with a put-upon sigh.

“Harry wants to grow out his hair,” Zayn replied. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at Lou with an unwaveringly stern expression.

She just rolled her eyes. “Harry’s a big boy,” she said callously. “If he has a problem, he could’ve just said so.”

“The band,” Zayn replied in an arch manner, “wants a different look. Harry, Louis, and I want longer hair. It’s in style right now.” He glanced back toward Louis, and Liam was surprised when the other boy nodded in agreement.

Lou narrowed her eyes as she looked from Zayn to Louis, and then finally, at Liam. “What about you, then?”

“My hair’s fine,” Liam blurted out frantically. “I just—um, I agree with Zayn. About the longer hair thing. Like, it’s cool, yeah?” He couldn’t seem to make his mouth stop working despite the glare both Zayn and Louis were levelling in his direction. Maybe trying to help had been a mistake after all.

Lou arched an eyebrow, finally compelling Liam to shut up. She sighed. “I never thought that whole eighties hair-band thing would be so formative,” she muttered under her breath. “Fine,” she added, a bit louder for their benefit. “I’ll let Caroline and the others know you’re wanting a different look, but it’s going to be a pain in the arse to sell management on, you know.” If she was hoping for sympathy from the boys, she didn’t get it. “And Harry’ll have to wear bandanas again,” she added. “His hair’s a disaster right now.”

Liam flinched as if it had been his hair she’d insulted instead. He was supremely grateful they’d decided to do this without Harry in the room with them. Lou was a little too blunt sometimes, and Harry was sensitive about her appearance—now more than ever.

With Lou taken care of (for now), Liam quickly returned to Harry’s dressing room to give her the good news. She looked a little better than she had when he’d left, her eyes and cheeks slowly returning to their normal colours. She still seemed apprehensive, though, as Liam approached, so he pasted a comforting smile onto his face as he sank down onto the sofa next to her.

“She’s not going to make you cut it,” Liam told Harry, watching the wary look on her face morph into an expression of pure relief. “Zayn and Louis talked her into letting the three of you grow yours out.”

Relief turned rapidly to confusion. “Really? Louis?” Harry questioned. She seemed surprised once again that he would come to her defence, and that knowledge stirred up something unpleasant in the pit of Liam’s stomach.

Confronting Harry about it right then felt like a bad idea, however. She’d clearly dealt with enough turmoil for one day.

Liam left it alone for a little while, and over the course of the next few days of meetings and rehearsals, the bad feeling in his gut continued to simmer, nearly bubbling over whenever he caught Louis or Harry staring at each other in undisguised angst while the other wasn’t looking. Something needed to be done.

Liam finally cornered Harry after one of their rehearsals, deciding that she would be an easier nut to crack than Louis, who was barely on speaking terms with either one of them now.

“I think you and Louis need to talk,” Liam told her once they were alone—which wasn’t actually very alone at all, seeing as a large number of crew were still milling about backstage, checking that everything was in order. The other lads had gone off to grab a bite to eat, though, which was what really counted in the moment.

Harry stared back at Liam, her brows furrowed in confusion. “About what?’ she asked as she gently extricated her arm from Liam’s hold.

“About you,” Liam replied. He was bewildered by her response. He’d thought it was fairly obvious what needed to be done. “About whatever happened between you, I mean.”

Harry’s expression shuttered. “We broke up,” she said coldly. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Liam reached out for her again before she could escape. He wasn’t finished with her yet. She was still hiding something. “Why did you break up?” he wondered. “Louis didn’t…do something, did he?” Liam would have been shocked if she’d said yes, but there was always the possibility, so he felt compelled to ask.

He was relieved when Harry shook her head emphatically, her expression unexpectedly frantic. “No,” she replied quickly. “No, he didn’t—it’s not even about Louis, it’s about…me.” She swallowed hard and turned away, but Liam didn’t let go of her.

“You can tell me,” Liam encouraged. “Whatever it is, you can tell me about it.”

“I already _did_ ,” Harry replied with a pointed look. She stared at Liam, waiting for the dots to connect, but he was still drawing a blank. Finally, she sighed and tugged Liam in a little closer to speak the rest directly in his ear. “I didn’t want him to break up with me,” she said, breathing the words against his skin and igniting a trail of goose bumps that spread rapidly down his torso. “I thought it would be easier if we split up now, before he had a chance to figure out that I’m not—that I’m a girl.”

Liam opened his mouth to ask why Harry being a girl would be such a big deal, only to catch himself at the very last second as he remembered his own discussion with Louis about his relationship with Harry. Louis was gay, he realised. And that meant he didn’t like girls at all.

“Oh,” Liam said quietly as Harry finally released him. “I mean—” He grappled with his own mind to find some shred of reasoning that he could use to defend Louis, as was his first instinct as a best friend. But there was no way of knowing that Harry wasn’t right about her assumptions. Maybe Louis really would have rejected her after finding out that she wasn’t a boy—just a boy, at least. But then again, maybe not. “Well,” Liam said slowly, “what if it doesn’t matter what you are? What if Louis was only—you know—because of you?”

Harry pursed her lips and gave a tiny shake of her head. “I don’t think so, Liam,” she said sadly.

“I could try to talk to him?” Liam offered.

Harry shook her head again, this time more violently. “No,” she replied. “No, I don’t want him to find out yet.”

“Look,” Liam tried again. He reached out with his free hand and gently pulled her closer. “I won’t tell him about you, I promise. But this has to get resolved somehow, all right? Let me talk to him.”

Harry pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she finally gave a hesitant nod. “Okay,” she said, sounding terrified at the prospect.

Liam was determined not to let her down.

It still took him a little while to muster up the courage to actually confront Louis like he’d promised, though. They were busy enough in the weeks leading up to tour, which was a decent enough excuse at first. But eventually, Liam couldn’t put it off any longer. The tension that had built up between Harry and Louis over the course of the last few months needed to be put to rest before they hit the road again.

_I need to talk to you._

Simple and to the point. Now Liam just had to hope that Louis wouldn’t ignore the message. They were only five days out from the start of the first leg, and Liam was running out of time to fix things.

Louis didn’t respond to the text directly, but it was only about an hour or so before he poked his head around the door of the studio lounge where Liam was sat waiting to be called back in again by Julian. “All right?” he said in greeting. His tone was normal, but he still seemed a bit tentative as he walked into the room.

Liam nodded, not wanting to scare him off right away. He scooted farther down the sofa into the corner, leaving room for Louis to take a seat next to him.

“What’s up?” Louis asked.

Liam stared down at his lap without speaking for a few seconds before finally getting right down to it. “I need you to forgive Harry,” he said.

“What?”

Liam glanced up to find Louis staring at him with an expression that seemed more confused than angry. He chose to take that as a good sign. “Tour starts in less than a week,” Liam pointed out. “It’s not good for the band for you and him to be giving each other the cold shoulder still.”

Louis’s nostrils flared. “Tell that to him,” he replied venomously.

“I _have_.” Liam kept his tone patient. He knew Louis’s anger wasn’t even directed at him, not really. As much as Liam’s instincts were screaming at him to flee the confrontation, he still had a job to do. “Harry’s willing to drop this shit if you are.”

“What,” Louis scoffed, “like a truce?”

Liam gave a solemn nod in return. “Sure.”

“That’s not fair,” Louis said in a quiet voice.

Liam squinted at him confused. He turned his body to face Louis, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanour. He’d been angry before, but now all the fight had gone out of him. He just seemed sad. “What do you mean?” Liam asked cautiously.

Louis shook his head. “He broke up with _me_ ,” he replied. “And he was mad at _me_ , and now I have to be the one to forgive him? It’s bullshit.”

Realisation blossomed in Liam’s mind. “Oh my god,” he said, a bit awestruck by it. “You’re like, properly in love with him, aren’t you?”

Louis managed a scowl once again. “Fuck off,” he retorted, but there was little heat behind his words. “Just tell me why he broke up with me, all right?”

Liam wondered if he was asking because he was still trying to find a way to fix it. He wasn’t dumb enough to ask that out loud, thankfully, but he didn’t have much to offer Louis in the way of an answer either, unless he was willing to betray Harry’s trust and tell Louis her secret. He wasn’t.

“As cliché as it seems,” Liam tried, “It really isn’t about you, mate.”

Louis tipped his head back with a forlorn sigh. “So you do know why, then.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not going to tell me?”

“Harry asked me not to.”

“Fantastic,” Louis said through an exhale. “Tell him I’ll play nice, then, I suppose.”

He started to get up from the sofa, and Liam panicked, suddenly paranoid that if he let Louis go without patching things up between them right then, he’d never have the chance to do so.

“Wait,” Liam blurted out, reaching a hand toward Louis reflexively before aborting the gesture.

Louis turned slightly, his face questioning. He didn’t respond.

Liam licked his lips and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he said. The words tasted like bile. He wasn’t sure why they were so difficult to force out.

Louis nodded with a nonchalant expression, looking no different than if Liam had just asked about the weather. “Me too,” he replied before turning to leave the room again.

Liam tried to force himself to experience something close to relief after their conversation with little luck. The days leading up to their departure were spent mostly with friends and family—who Liam wouldn’t see for some months to come—but Liam’s mind was elsewhere as he went through the motions of saying his goodbyes.

Sophia didn’t come home with him, of course. Liam found he was inadequately prepared to explain the break-up to his parents, so he made an excuse that she was busy with work and resolved to explain the truth to them when things were a bit less hectic.

Liam didn’t see Harry again until their flight to Colombia for the first show. She was bundled up when they boarded the plane, but enough of her face was visible that Liam could tell immediately that she looked just a bit different than she had before.

It wasn’t a quantifiable difference. Liam told himself that no one else would notice because they didn’t know to look. But just as soon as the seatbelt light went off again after take-off, Liam found Niall sidling up to him, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“Something seem off about Harry to you?” Niall asked.

Liam froze for a second and then forced himself to shake his head. “No,” he lied. “Why?”

Niall shrugged. “I dunno, he just looks different to me. The baby face is back a bit, you know? Wondered if he’d finally quit that godawful fitness routine they had him on last tour.”

Liam wasn’t exactly up to date on Harry’s gym habits, but he was pretty sure she’d traded in the weight-training for yoga and jogging at least. “Yeah,” he replied lamely. “Maybe.”

Liam wasn’t sat anywhere near Harry and felt too bad about ditching Niall mid-flight to move seats until the latter finally got up again to use the toilet, at which point Liam practically dashed across the length of the cabin to get to Harry, who was on the complete opposite side.

Harry blinked up at Liam in surprise as he landed next to her with a loud exhale. She closed the book in her lap, revealing that it wasn’t one of the more pretentious novels she’d been seen with lately, but instead a well-worn paperback with a familiar black cover. Liam stared down at the handcuffs adorning it in disbelief, until Harry finally realised what he was looking at and stashed the book to the side of her seat with a little huff of embarrassment.

Liam chose not to comment on her choice in literature. “You feeling all right?” he asked instead.

Harry seemed surprised by his concern. “Sure,” she replied. “It’s just another flight, right?”

“There’s no…side effects?” he wondered. Liam still wasn’t exactly sure how oestrogen was meant to work, but if it made certain things feel different to Harry, he didn’t think it was unreasonable to expect that it might interfere with inner ear stuff and cause vertigo or something, too.

Harry shook her head, finally catching on to what Liam was asking. “No, I’m all right,” she told him. “Might sleep a bit more than usual, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

It definitely wasn’t on an international flight, and they would need to try and re-adjust their internal clocks to the time change before they landed in Bogota anyway.

Liam ended up sat next to Harry as she fell asleep in her seat, watching her slack face, analysing the transformation that he could already see taking shape before his very eyes. He hadn’t thought it would all happen this fast, he realised. He wasn’t sure if they could keep it a secret for very long if others were already starting to notice Harry’s body was changing. Liam wasn’t sure what to expect once the fans started to take an interest, either, but the possibilities left a lump in the back of his throat.

The smart thing for Liam to do would be to mind his own business and stay away from Harry except in a professional context. They hadn’t hung out together all that much before this, at least not alone, and Liam knew the scrutiny on their budding relationship would only put even more of a spotlight on Harry.

Liam wasn’t sure why the prospect of leaving Harry alone hurt so much to even consider.

Eventually Liam moved back to his own seat and fell asleep as well. They landed in Bogota on time: early in the afternoon the day before the show. They were given free reign of the city for the evening after getting settled into their hotel. Security was recommended, but not mandatory, which meant that none of them would take up the offer of a bodyguard if they could help it. Louis especially hated being tailed, but he’d certainly try to rope Zayn or someone else into accompanying him on any adventures. Liam didn’t think he’d merit an invite this time.

Niall opted to use the free time to nap, even though he knew full well that he would likely regret it later, when it came time to actually get some sleep before the show. Zayn and Louis were quick to catch Liam outside his hotel room, and he was surprised when they summarily invited him to come out with them for a bit of shopping and some drinks.

“What about Harry?” Liam questioned automatically. He regretted asking a bit when Louis’s expression soured in response.

“What about Harry?” Louis retorted.

Zayn glanced between them in turn, stone-faced as he absorbed the tension that was steadily building the longer Liam struggled to come up with an adequate answer.

“Harry’s not much of a drinker anymore,” Zayn pointed out. “And it seemed like he wanted to sleep some more anyway.”

Liam nodded even though he knew already that their excuses had virtually nothing to do with the real reason why Harry wasn’t being invited out with them. “I think I’m actually gonna nap, too,” he finally told them. “Maybe I’ll catch you up after?”

Zayn and Louis both nodded agreeably, but they didn’t look the least bit convinced that Liam would actually make good on that offer.

Liam waited for them to leave before heading straight for Harry’s room at the far end of the corridor. He knocked twice, rocking impatiently back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited for her to open the door. She didn’t answer. Liam knocked again, frowning when there was no response. He was pretty positive that she hadn’t left the hotel, so why wasn’t she opening the door?

Liam spent another minute fruitlessly waiting for Harry to answer before heading down to the vending machines near the lifts, where their security for the day was stationed. They both nodded in response to Liam’s unenthusiastic wave, and he forced a smile, wishing he had Louis or Zayn’s charm to get by on as he approached the two men.

“Could one of you let me into Harry’s room?” Liam asked hopefully. “We were supposed to hang out, but he didn’t answer when I knocked.”

The security guys exchanged mildly worried looks before the one on the right—Kyle, Liam thought his name was—finally nodded. “You want us to call someone?” the man asked as he walked over to Harry’s room with Liam in tow.

“No,” Liam replied. “He’s probably just got earbuds in or something.” He worried at his lower lip as he waited for Kyle to unlock the door and let him in. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Let us know if you need something else.”

Liam nodded and slipped into Harry’s hotel room eagerly. He became aware immediately upon entering that the shower was running, which he supposed explained Harry’s lack of response when he’d knocked. Liam contemplated texting her to come see him after she was done or something, but then realised it would just be easier to wait for Harry here while he watched a bit of telly. Liam was well-acquainted with Harry’s long showers. She’d probably be in there a while.

Liam hopped up onto her bed (still untouched) and laid back against the pillows with the remote in hand. He split his cognitive awareness between monitoring the sound of the shower and channel surfing in search of something that was actually in English. The shower turned off before Liam succeeded in his endeavour, and he carefully focussed his eyes on the telly instead of allowing them to wander toward the bathroom door like he would’ve liked.

The door opened, revealing Harry’s lanky silhouette shrouded in a cloud of steam like something out of a movie—or a porno. She stepped forward into the room as she wrapped a towel around her hair without looking up, and Liam felt his mouth drop open a bit in surprise. He hadn’t really expected her to walk out in _just_ a towel, this one tucked tightly under her armpits—though in hindsight he realised it wouldn’t have made much sense for her to get fully dressed in the bathroom in a hotel room she wasn’t even sharing. Liam was just lucky she wasn’t naked.

Finally, Harry glanced up after twisting the towel around her head and froze. Her face turned a bright red, spreading down her neck to her chest the longer that Liam stared sheepishly back at her.

“Um, hi?” Liam said uncertainly. “I’ll just—while you get dressed.” He mimed turning around and then did so, staring pointedly at the curtains while Harry rustled through her bags behind him. He still wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly that he shouldn’t be allowed to look at Harry naked anymore, despite the fact that they’d both seen all there was to see already. It wasn’t like her body was that different now, even with the tits and all. Or the beginnings of them, at any rate.

“You can turn around now,” she said a few moments later.

Liam did so slowly, surprised to find that Harry was dressed in surprisingly chavvy clothing. Well, the top half, at least. Under the baggy dark grey track jacket, she had on a pair of black sweats and trainers that matched the jacket with the exception of the bubblegum pink laces. “Going for a run?” he wondered.

Harry shook her head. “What are you doing here?” she asked without clarifying her answer.

Liam shrugged and sank back down against the pillows again. He stretched luxuriously while Harry just stared at him from the foot of the bed. “Didn’t feel like going out with Zayn and Louis,” Liam finally confessed. He gave her his best puppy dog stare, hoping that she’d take pity on him and let him hang out with her instead of whatever it was she’d been planning to do. “Gym, then?” he tried next.

Harry sighed softly. “No,” she replied. “I was gonna go to a tattoo place a couple blocks down, actually.” She seemed hesitant to admit as much to Liam, and he wondered why she was being so secretive about it.

“Can I come with?” Liam asked, feeling a bit pathetic even as he did so that he was inviting himself along when Harry clearly seemed reluctant to include him in whatever she was planning.

Harry shifted her weight to one foot, then the other, scrunching her nose up a bit as she considered Liam’s request. “Wasn’t actually planning on getting a tattoo,” she finally confessed.

“Then what?” Liam replied, his interest piqued.

“If you really want to come with, then I’ll show you.”

Liam would have gone with her anywhere regardless of any promises she did or didn’t make, but now he was curious to see exactly what she had planned.

They turned down the offer of a security detail when they went out to the lifts. Harry strode confidently through the hotel, her posture unchanged when they exited out through the front entrance and onto the street. Not a single person walking by gave them a second glance, and for that Liam was relieved.

The tattoo parlour was more than a few blocks down the road, but the walk was pleasant in the early autumn heat. It was a stark difference coming from London, which was still chilly enough for a coat more often than not in the spring.

Harry was practically vibrating out of her skin when they finally arrived, but judging from the grin on her face as she opened the door for Liam to go through, it was more from excitement than nerves. Liam was keener than ever now to find out what she had planned.

Liam watched from the sofa in the reception area while Harry talked to one of the artists for a minute. He couldn’t figure out from her gestures what she was intending, and the girl on the other side of the counter just nodded along with everything Harry was saying. Finally, the tattoo artist pulled out a binder and set it down on the counter for Harry to take a look at. Liam was too far away to make out what was inside, but he wasn’t that invested in spoiling the surprise now that they’d come all this way already.

A few minutes later, Harry turned around again and beckoned for Liam to get up off the sofa. He followed her and the tattoo artist into a back room and watched with undisguised interest as Harry laid down on her back on a padded table while the tattoo artist from before pulled gloves onto her heavily inked hands.

“I thought you said you weren’t getting a tattoo,” Liam said to Harry as she unzipped her track jacket and pulled up the shirt underneath to expose her midriff.

“I’m not,” she replied in a breathy voice. Liam could see her stomach rising and falling with every inhale-exhale and couldn’t stop himself from staring.

“Oh,” Liam said in realisation when he turned to look at the tattoo artist again to find that she was getting a needle ready, with some simple jewellery already sat out beside. Liam glanced over at Harry and raised his eyebrows.

“What?” she said, huffing out a laugh. “You don’t approve?”

“No,” Liam replied, “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“Well, I actually wanted to pierce my ears,” Harry admitted as the tattoo artists came over and started to swab her belly with an antiseptic. “But there’s no way I could get away with it, so I figured nipples or belly button, and since my nipples aren’t exactly done cooking yet….”

Harry had said the word nipples far too many times for Liam’s brain to handle. He felt himself going a bit hot and fuzzy all over, and he blinked down at Harry’s navel, forcing himself to focus. “Do you want me to hold your hand?” he blurted out as the tattoo artist prepared to pierce her.

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to hold my hand?” she shot back.

Liam took her hand in his without answering and watched in slightly repulsed fascination as the needle was pushed through her skin. Harry gave a little gasp at first and squeezed Liam’s hand tight when the piercing itself was threaded through, but otherwise showed no outward signs of being in pain.

The warmth spreading from the back of Liam’s neck only seemed to worsen as he stared at Harry’s heaving stomach, now embedded with two small diamonds to accentuate the tiny dip of her belly button. She was softer there now than she had been all last tour when her weight training regimen had been at its peak, and Liam felt the odd compulsion to run his hands over the smooth skin along the happy trail that no longer existed.

Liam might have been embarrassed by his reaction to seeing Harry get pierced, but it was nothing compared to the obvious erection in Harry’s sweats that appeared not long after she hopped off the table. Evidently, Louis’s jokes about Harry getting off on pain hadn’t so much been jokes at all.

Liam was tempted to comment on the bulge in her trousers in an attempt to lighten the mood, but there was an oddly palpable tension in the air between them  that only seemed to grow in strength as they walked back to the hotel—Harry waddling more than anything else.

Liam couldn’t bring himself to utter a single word until they’d reached Harry’s room again, at which point he swallowed hard as he stared at Harry, his mouth feeling drier than the Mojave. “It looks really good,” he finally said. “I like it.”

Harry smiled softly back at him. “Thanks,” she said with a yawn. “I’d invite you in but I’m probably gonna just—” She gestured vaguely toward the bed, and Liam tried not to think about the fact that she was still stood in front of him with a semi and was probably intending to take care of it before she actually laid down for a nap.

“Right, yeah,” Liam replied stiffly. “Goodnight, then.”

Liam turned back down the corridor to go back to his own room afterward only to find Louis and Zayn stationed right outside the door. Liam stopped short, freezing at the sight of them momentarily before remembering that looking guilty was by far the worst thing he could do now that he’d already been caught out in a lie.

“Thought you were having a kip,” Louis said accusatorily, his arms folded over his chest in the perfect picture of righteous judgment.

Liam withered under his resolute glare. “I was going to get some ice,” he lied.

Zayn let out a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “What ice?” he asked, nodding toward Liam’s empty hands.

Liam, truthfully, hadn’t thought that far ahead in the lie. “Oh,” he said automatically. “I, um, I couldn’t find the machine,” he told them.

It was clear from both of their expressions that they didn’t believe a word of it, and Liam couldn’t blame them. Thankfully, they seemed inclined to ignore Liam’s falsehoods in favour of dragging him back to Zayn’s room to smoke a bit, which Liam wasn’t entirely opposed to after his less than relaxing outing with Harry.

Liam sacked out on the bed between Louis and Zayn, who passed a joint overhead while allowing Liam only occasional drags. His tolerance was shit. He suspected it might be the kidney thing despite what Louis had told him about that not being how weed even worked.

They bullshitted for a while about mundane stuff to do with tour, complaining about the schedule while likewise acknowledging the fact that it wasn’t nearly as bad as the previous year’s had been. Liam was quiet for most of it, and then Zayn and Louis finally went silent too, and it was like in the absence of their voices to drown out his thoughts, Liam’s brain suddenly went into hyperdrive.

Liam couldn’t stop thinking about Harry’s erection softly tenting the front of her sweats, and he couldn’t stop obsessing over the fact that it was the only thing he could think about. Liam wanted to say something, but Zayn was right there, and Liam didn’t know just how in the know the others were about Harry and Louis’s little…thing.

Liam waited until Zayn volunteered to go and grab snacks from the vending machine before voicing the most prominent thought rattling around in his brain, piercing through the marijuana-fuelled haze that felt like it was the only thing keeping him from going absolutely mental.

“Do you ever get turned on by pussy?” Liam wondered.

Louis choked. He coughed and spluttered for a minute while Liam stared at him before finally whirling on the other boy with fire in his eyes. “Excuse me?” he demanded.

“Well, like,” Liam started to explain, “I was just wondering if you’d ever had a one-off or something. ‘Cos you dated Hannah, right? And you must have watched straight porn at some point. It’s not like you’ve never seen pussy, so—”

Louis continued to stare at Liam in open-mouthed disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded, his brows drawing together in confusion—or anger. It was hard to tell the difference.

“You’ve never gotten a lob-on from seeing a girl naked?” Liam tried. “Not even once?”

“Are you like, trying to convince me I could be into girls or something?”

“No!” Liam retorted. He scooted up a bit on the bed, his expression wide-eyed and earnest as he stared back at Louis, finally realising how his questions must have sounded. “I wasn’t—I was just—”

The door to Zayn’s hotel room opened again to reveal Zayn himself, his arms now laden with a bounty from the vending machines down the hall. He arched an eyebrow as he took in the scene before him: the tense body language Louis was exuding while Liam struggled to come up with a good explanation for his invasive questioning.

“What the hell’s the matter with you two?” Zayn asked as he walked up to the bed to dump the goodies onto the duvet.

Louis leaned forward to snatch a packet of crisps from the pile. “Liam wants to know if I ever get turned on by pussy,” he said openly, leaving Liam gobsmacked as Zayn just took the information in stride with nothing more than an amused little snort as he sat back down on the other side of the bed again. “Apparently he thinks there might still be hope for me yet.”

“That’s _not_ what I meant—” Liam started to say, but Zayn cut him off before he could get the rest of the words out.

“Is this about Harry?” Zayn asked through a mouthful of liquorice.

Liam stopped cold, his mouth still hanging open as he tried to come up with a reasonable answer. “I don’t know what you mean,” he finally replied, but neither Zayn nor Louis seemed convinced, if their derisive laughter in response was any indication.

“You’re not _into_ Harry, are you?” Zayn asked as a follow-up.

“No!” Liam replied adamantly. “No, I wouldn’t—” He glanced over at Louis as though to reassure him, only to find that the other boy was staring pointedly down at his crisps, refusing to meet Liam’s eyes at all. “No, I’m not,” Liam continued as he looked back at Zayn.

“If you say so,” Zayn replied casually.

The conversation didn’t come up again over the course of the next few days, but things were tense again between Liam and Louis, even as Louis and Harry’s relationship started to return to normal. Or civil, at least. Evidently, ‘normal’ for them had once meant a lot more than professional courtesy.

Liam kept his own professional distance from Harry as well, albeit for different reasons. He spent most of his downtime training with Mark or on Skype with his parents, not wanting to give himself an excuse to have to spend any of his free time with the rest of the band if he didn’t have to.

And then Liam and Harry were both summoned to play their parts for the fluff piece Ben wanted in the Where We Are film, putting an end to Liam’s careful avoidance once and for all.

Liam was a little miffed that he and Harry had gotten the short end of the stick at first. Zayn, Niall, and Louis didn’t have nearly the amount of physical work involved in their featurette, nor did they have to spend as much time together as Harry and Liam would.

Liam’s bad attitude persisted through much of the morning, only strengthening when they were styled for the day and he found out that they’d be hiking in jeans, no less. It didn’t dissipate until they finally reached the site of the ancient structure, at which point Liam caught his first glimpse of Machu Picchu and immediately changed his mind. He and Harry had definitely gotten the better deal after all.

“You look like you’re having some sort of spiritual awakening,” Harry joked as they started the climb.

“Maybe I am,” Liam replied listlessly, too awestruck by the magnificence of what he was seeing to pay much attention to Harry at all.

She’d fared even worse than Liam in the styling department. He wasn’t sure in what universe skinny jeans and chelseas were considered acceptable for a multi-hour climb up the side of a mountain, but Harry didn’t so much as complain, even when their energy started to flag as they approached the summit, at which point even Liam started to feel the consequences of their less than comfortable filming outfits.

It wasn’t until they took a break from shooting at the top so that everyone could spend a bit of time actually enjoying the tourist experience that Harry finally let her guard down.

“You okay?” Liam asked, staring at her in concern as she lifted the hem of her loose vest to itch at a bit of red, inflamed skin surrounding the patch on her hip. “Oh, Jesus, are you all right?”

“Just a pain in the arse,” Harry muttered, scratching at it for a minute before lowering her shirt again with a resigned sigh. She glanced up at Liam, her expression morphing into something more calculating now that they were out of sight of Ben and Cal and the cameras. “What’s with you all of a sudden?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Liam replied, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutinising gaze.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Liam.”

Liam sighed, tilting his head back to stare up at the sprawling sky above them, at the thick cloud cover that seemed impossibly within reach at their current altitude. “It’s Louis,” he said. A half-truth. He turned slightly to take in the frown marring Harry’s face. “He knows something’s going on,” Liam said in an effort at deflecting Harry’s attention from what was wrong with Liam specifically. “I think you need to tell him.”

Harry jolted back as if Liam had physically struck her. “No,” she insisted. “No, I’m not gonna—I’m not telling anyone, Liam. Especially not Louis.”

“He’s going to find out eventually,” Liam pointed out.

“Yeah,” Harry replied with a grimace. “Eventually.”

Liam stared at her for a long moment, considering. “What are you really afraid of?” he wondered.

Harry seemed surprised by the question. “I already told you,” she said, adjusting her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. “I don’t—I can’t handle if he—if it goes badly.”

Liam sat back a bit, bracing himself on the palms of his hands as he looked out over the valley below. “I could talk to him for you,” he offered. “We have to tell the band at some point, H,” he told her. “We can’t keep it a secret forever.” And truth be told, Liam was more than a little bit worried about his ability to keep it a secret for much longer, especially from Louis, who seemed just on the verge of peeling back Liam’s piss-poor attempts at lying to reveal the truth already.

Harry didn’t respond for nearly a minute, long enough that Liam had already resigned himself to the fact that she wasn’t interested in his proposal at all.

“Just don’t say anything to me if it goes badly,” she said, startling Liam out of the stupor he’d found himself falling into as he gazed out into the distance.

“You’re sure?” Liam checked.

Harry nodded.

“Then I promise.”

They didn’t talk much for the rest of their allotted break time, moving away from the edge where they’d been sat before long enough to retrieve their sandwiches from Mark before resuming their positions again. It was nice, Liam thought, just spending time with Harry like this, without the pressure of anything else.

“Kind of wish we could have done this on our own, you know?” Liam finally said, giving voice to his thoughts at last. “Just you and me. None of the cameras or fans or anyone else.”

Harry didn’t turn to meet his eyes, but she nodded as she continued to stare straight ahead. “Yeah,” she replied in a soft voice. “Me too.”


	6. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Liam, according to his newly established pattern of behaviour, found himself procrastinating his plans to speak to Louis about Harry once again. This time, he rationalised it as a side effect of being busy with the tour, even though he knew deep down that it was a crock of bullshit. The excuse was convenient, though, and Liam ended up avoiding both Louis and Harry again as a result of not wanting to end up in a situation where he couldn’t convince himself it wasn’t the right time to have The Talk.

The only problem was that Harry had made Liam promise not to tell her if his discussion with Louis went badly, which mean that she had quickly taken his silence as a bad sign, her jumpiness in the days following their trip to Machu Picchu morphing into weary resignation instead. And that just made Liam feel even worse.

Things finally reached a boiling point in Brazil. Just not in the way any of them had anticipated.

It started out by the hotel pool in Rio. Liam wasn’t even there to see any of it, but Niall had been quick to spread the photos of Harry practically groping Ben out on the deck that surfaced just a few hours later between the band and most of the crew.

Niall had a good laugh over it. Liam was furious.

He couldn’t have said why he was so angry if he’d been asked, but the emotion was compelling enough that Liam ended up grabbing Harry by the arm later that night just as she was getting out of the lift on their floor. He dragged her off toward his room with no real goal in mind aside from pure confrontation.

“What the _hell_ , Liam?” Harry hissed. She yanked her arm out of his grip as soon as Liam loosened his hold on her. They were stood in the middle of the corridor, which wasn’t exactly the private setting Liam had been hoping for, but if he was going to do this, he needed to do it now.

Liam stared at her, speechless, for a few seconds, and then it all came pouring out. “You can’t just—you know Louis’s going to see those photos, right? And Ben’s _married_. I don’t even know why you were acting like that in public anyway when you’re still lying to the fans and—”

Harry slapped him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded, finally stunning Liam into silence. “You don’t have the right to tell me—”

“I was just trying to—”

“Shut _up_ , Liam!”

Liam had rarely seen Harry this angry, and never before had it been directed at him. He closed his mouth obediently and stepped out of her immediate space, chagrined at his childish reaction now that she’d called him on it.

Harry stared at him in open-mouthed disbelief. “Are you…is this because you have a crush on me?” She sounded almost disgusted as she said it, and Liam felt himself recoiling from the venom in her tone.

“I don’t—” Liam spluttered. “I’m not—”

“All that shit about Louis,” Harry continued, “but you were just jealous because it wasn’t you.” The accusatory tone in her voice had softened, turning toward bewildered wonder instead.

Liam looked back at her, mortified, and terrified, and frozen completely in place, no matter how much his brain screamed for him to run. He’d barely allowed the thought that he might have feelings for her beyond simple friendship to cross his mind, and now here Harry herself was, throwing that shameful truth right in Liam’s face.

But it wasn’t shameful because of her. It was Liam who didn’t deserve Harry, not the other way around.

Liam was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even register the fact that Harry had started moving toward him until she was right there, so close he could smell her, and then her lips were on his, and somehow his hand had snaked around her waist without realising, drawing her in even closer, and the only thing Liam could think about was Harry, Harry, Harry.

She pushed him with her hips; Liam pushed right back, crowding her against the door as he opened his mouth to let her deepen the kiss. Harry rucked up the hem of his shirt, scraping the dip in his spine with blunt fingernails that nevertheless had Liam shivering at the feeling of them digging into his skin as he continued to kiss her hard.

Liam could barely breathe, could barely think. Harry’s mouth was hot and wet underneath his, and she kept rutting up against his hip in short, abortive movements like the promise of something more.

Liam didn’t even know if he wanted more, not really, and he knew later that he would regret this. But for now….

Liam moved his hand from Harry’s waist to her chest, cupping the softness that hadn’t been there before, marvelling at the way her body had already changed just in a few short weeks. He squeezed harder, thumbing across her nipple, and that was all it took for Harry break the kiss.

She went limp in Liam’s arms, shuddering a bit, and for a moment Liam was worried that he’d hurt her somehow. Then Harry looked up at him again, her cheeks bright pink, eyes glassy, lips parted as she panted out a breathy whimper. Liam followed her eyes back down to the wet spot on the front of her shorts, and he finally realised what had happened.

“You—” Liam started to say, not even really certain how he was intending to finish the thought, but a pointed cough from their right cut him off before he even had a chance to continue.

Both Liam and Harry looked over to find Louis standing there at the turn in the corridor that led to Louis and Harry’s rooms. Louis stared stonily back at them with his arms folded over his chest. It was hard to tell if he was more angry or shocked at what he had seen. And Liam wasn’t sure just how much Louis _had_ seen before he’d decided to make his presence known.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Louis said in a flat voice as Liam and Harry broke apart.

Harry was careful to shield the crotch of her shorts with a casual hand, but Liam wasn’t sure it mattered much in the grand scheme of things. “I’m just gonna go,” she croaked, her voice shot as if she’d been doing more with her mouth than just kissing. She dashed down the hall, past Louis, and out of sight.

Louis didn’t look at her once as she went by. His focus was honed in singly on Liam, whose feet were still glued in place in the middle of the corridor, for some reason unable to take the few steps toward the door to his room that were all he needed to escape.

Louis didn’t move either, but Liam wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for that or not. He was still clearly furious, his hands balled into fists at his armpits as he continued to stand there just staring at Liam.

It took Liam another few seconds to realise that Louis was waiting for an explanation. He opened his mouth; nothing came out. He shut it and tried again. “We were just…” he said feebly. “It’s complicated. I didn’t—”

Louis’s face didn’t change, but then he abruptly turned as if to leave, and Liam panicked.

“Wait,” Liam called out, dashing forward to stop him.

Louis spun around again, his expression coolly expectant. “You have thirty seconds to come up with something,” he said in a flat voice.

It took Liam several of those precious seconds to even get started. “Well, Harry and I have been so close lately because she—”

Louis’s face twisted into something deeply unpleasant. “Oh, so now you’re going to try to feed me the same nonsense Nick was on about? Fuck off.”

Liam stared after Louis, utterly confused, but by the time he’d gathered his wits about him again, Louis had already disappeared into his own room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Liam stared at the door to Louis’s hotel room for a few seconds before allowing his eyes to wander farther down to Harry’s. He contemplated trying to talk to her again, but his conversation—or lack thereof—with Louis had wounded him plenty already. He decided to cut his losses for the night and turned to go back to his own room, defeated.

Liam quickly stripped off his gym clothes and catapulted onto the bed with a sigh. He laid there for a moment, just staring at the ceiling in morose apathy, before suddenly sitting up with a flash of realisation. Liam had called Harry ‘she’ by accident when he was speaking to Louis. But Louis hadn’t been surprised. Because of Nick.

The only reason Liam had Nick’s phone number was because Nick was meticulous about collecting the numbers of every single person who so much as set foot in the Radio 1 studios—just in case. Liam had never had occasion to use it until now.

Liam dialled and chewed nervously at his thumbnail as he waited for the call to connect. He wasn’t certain what he was even planning to say to Nick if he actually answered, but he knew something had to be done about Louis, and if Nick knew something that Liam didn’t….

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Nick said in greeting when he picked up, with all the theatricality of a broadcast. Liam could barely muster up a feeble ‘hello’ in response. “What can I do for you then this fine morning?”

Right, Liam thought. Because it was barely the crack of dawn back in England and he was calling Nick up at an absolutely ungodly hour to…what, exactly? “Um, something happened,” Liam tried. “With Harry and Louis. And I might be involved?” He was trying to ease into it delicately, but he wasn’t sure just how likely a possibility delicacy really was anymore.

“I’m guessing you know they split up, then,” Nick surmised.

“Yeah,” Liam said. “I’ve been helping Harry with some stuff after, and it might have led to me accidentally saying something I shouldn’t have to Louis? Um, and he mentioned you, so.”

Nick’s response was slow, careful. “What exactly did you say?” he asked.

“I said—I called Harry ‘she’,” Liam answered quickly before steamrolling right past it without giving Nick a chance to reply. “It was an accident, but Louis didn’t seem all that surprised? And then he said something about you before he left.” Liam let the words hang in the silence for a minute, but Nick didn’t respond. “I didn’t think Harry had told anyone else,” he finally continued. “She didn’t want me to talk to Louis about it before, so….”

“Ah,” Nick said cryptically. “Hmm.”

Liam gave it a few seconds before pressing Nick into giving an actual answer. “Did you already know about Harry, then?” he asked tentatively.

Nick breathed out a loud sigh. “We talked about things last year, but I didn’t think…. She said she wanted to wait till she could get out of her contract before trying to come out. Breaking up with Louis was my suggestion actually; I thought it’d be better if she got a clean break now instead of dragging out a relationship that’s doomed to fail.”

Liam was confused for several reasons after processing Nick’s response. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Why do you think?” Nick scoffed. “Gay men don’t date women, Liam.”

Liam opened his mouth to respond and then paused, realising that whatever Nick thought he knew, it wasn’t the whole truth. And Liam still wasn’t convinced that Louis couldn’t just be attracted to _Harry_ —however she labelled herself.

He wasn’t sure how to explain that to Nick, who seemed to be under the impression that Harry was a woman, full stop. So either Harry hadn’t filled Nick in on all the details, or she had and Nick just hadn’t listened very well. Either way, Liam didn’t want to be the one responsible for disillusioning him.

“Yeah, well,” Liam fumbled. “I mean, that’s not all that happened,” he said, a bit desperate now to get the rest of it off his chest, and Nick seemed to be the only person he could actually talk to about it now.

“Go on, then,” Nick said encouragingly. He seemed delighted at the prospect of being fed even more gossip about the incident, which didn’t surprise Liam in the slightest. Perhaps he should’ve been more wary about spilling his guts over the phone to someone he barely knew except in a professional capacity, but Liam also knew from Harry herself that Nick was unexpectly good at keeping confidences.

Liam sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself for Nick’s reaction. “Harry kissed me,” he said all in one breath, and then winced pre-emptively, waiting for the hammer to fall.

Nick sounded bored. “Is that all?” he asked. “You’re not having some kind of gay freak-out, are you? Because you know liking Harry doesn’t make you gay.”

“No!” Liam protested. “I mean, no, I know that. That’s not what I’m—what about Louis?”

“What about Louis?” Nick shot back. “Harry broke up with him. Apparently, she kissed you. So I don’t know what you’re so worried about. If you like her…well, she could do worse than you.”

Liam sort of felt like there was an implied ‘she could also do better’ hanging on the end of Nick’s statement, but he chose not to comment on it. “I didn’t say I was interested,” he protested instead.

Nick answered him with an incredulous snort. “Sure, Liam,” he replied sceptically. “No one’s uninterested in Harry Styles. Good luck!”

Liam opened his mouth to respond only to be met with the bloop of his phone disconnecting. Nick had hung up on him just like that.

Liam flopped down on his back with a sigh and closed his eyes, trying in vain to erase everything that had just happened from his mind. It was impossible, of course, and even more impossible was his attempt at sleeping afterward even though it wasn’t all that late and he was still keyed up from the night’s events.

But Liam did know of one tried and true method for falling asleep.

He shucked off his sweats and boxers in one go before peeling off his shirt as well. He was at half-chub already just from the anticipation. And maybe from the lingering effects of the kiss, if he was perfectly honest. Liam screwed his eyes shut again as he wrapped a hand around himself, trying to think of anything but the way Harry had sounded when she came as he jerked himself to full hardness. It was a futile endeavour.

When Liam was finished, he opened his eyes again, sticky and exhausted and forced to come to terms with the realisation that maybe Nick and Harry had both been right. Maybe he was interested.

Liam fell into an uneasy sleep after he’d cleaned up that provided little in the way of restfulness the next morning when he awoke. At the forefront of Liam’s mind as soon as he opened his eyes: the knowledge that one way or another, he was going to have to do something soon to clear the air.

But Liam’s cowardice won out yet again. The remainder of the South American tour leg was strained but civil in terms of any necessary interactions between Liam, Harry, and Louis. It was obvious enough that Zayn and Niall both noticed the tension within a day or two, but when confronted, Liam refused to budge on giving them an explanation, and he assumed Louis and Harry had done the same.

After the last two shows in Sao Paulo, they headed back home, much to Liam’s relief. He assumed he’d feel better when he got back to his flat in London, but instead, he just felt lost. Aimless. There was a bit of recording that needed to be done within the first few days of returning, which helped a smidge to take Liam’s mind off other matters, but then Liam passed by Louis in the hallway on the last day he was meant to record vocals for the single, and it all came flooding right back.

Liam needed to talk to someone. Preferably someone who wasn’t involved.

He wracked his brain trying to come up with somebody he could confide in. Sophia, who would have been his go-to under any other circumstances, was right out, and Zayn and Niall were both too close to the situation. Liam didn’t want to risk either of them guessing what was really going on.

It was as Liam was sat moping around his flat that he got a text message from Ruth. _In town today. Wanna do lunch?_

Liam sat up straight on the sofa and clicked off the telly, his eyes wide with realisation. Of course, he thought to himself. His sisters had been the solution the whole time.

Liam was a vibrating ball of nerves when he pulled up to the restaurant Ruth had picked out for them—before he’d subsequently made reservations and put his credit card on file so that she wouldn’t even have a chance to try and pay for the meal. Liam had plenty of money; it annoyed him that his family was less than keen on letting him use any of it.

Ruth gave him a hug as soon as Liam walked up to their table, and he returned it with just as much enthusiasm, squeezing her so tightly she let out a tiny squeak of discomfort to prompt him into letting her go.

“Sorry,” Liam said sheepishly as he sat down across from her. He was acting like they hadn’t just seen each other right before he’d left for South America less than a month ago.

“It’s always nice to know I’m loved,” Ruth replied with a cheeky smile before picking up her menu to peruse the specials.

Liam waited to bring up the point of conversation that had been eating away at him until after they’d ordered and their appetisers arrived, not wanting to spoil the mood too early. Ruth caught on to something being wrong right away. Liam could tell by the way her gaze sharpened as she looked over at him, like she was seeing something that hadn’t been there before.

“Well,” Ruth said between bites of her salad, “you might as well come right out with it.”

Liam stared down forlornly at his own salad, wishing the diet Sophia and Mark had conspired on at the beginning of the year would at least allow him to have a bit of bread from time to time. “It’s complicated,” he prefaced, glancing up to find Ruth still looking at him almost suspiciously.

“All right,” she replied.

“So….” Liam twirled his fork around in the leaves, trying to figure out how to properly obfuscate the situation for his sister while still explaining enough of it that she could actually help. “Hypothetically,” he said, “if two guys were interested in the same girl, and she broke up with one of them before kissing the other one, do you think there’s any way for the second guy to keep his friendship with the first guy without rejecting the girl?”

Ruth lifted an eyebrow, but she didn’t call Liam out on the shoddy hypothetical as she replied. “Was it a bad break-up?” she asked.

She didn’t question Liam about Sophia, which he was grateful for. Beyond the fact that Sophia wasn’t even the girl in question, Liam wasn’t really up to engaging in a conversation about how little he really cared about being dumped. Especially considering the recent implications of that as it pertained to Harry herself.

“Yes,” Liam replied. “I mean, hypothetically, they might not have been speaking to each other for a while before the girl moved on with the guy’s best friend. Or, tried to.”

“Hmm.” Ruth pursed her lips. “Well, I think the whole concept of girls being ‘off limits’ is kind of silly, to be honest. The second guy should just talk to the girl and figure out what she wants first, and if he wants the same thing….” She shrugged. “Too bad, so sad for the guy who got dumped, I suppose.”

It was infinitely more complicated than that, but it wasn’t something Liam could explain in depth to his sister over lunch, so he decided to accept her advice for what it was and take just a bit of it to heart. He needed to talk to Harry.

His first attempt was rather graceless. _Hey can we talk?_

Harry didn’t respond.

Liam gave it a few more hours before tacking on a follow-up text. _Please???_

Again, nothing. Liam had all but given up by the time his phone finally pinged with a reply later that night.

_Come over then._

Liam rushed over to Ben’s only to be met by a confused Meredith at the door, who helpfully informed him that Harry was in the process of moving into her new house in Hampstead Heath, something she’d forgotten to mention when she invited him to meet in person.

Liam was soaked through from the rain by the time he finally made it to Harry’s new place. He rang the doorbell aggressively, huddling in against the door as much as possible to shield himself from the nearly horizontal storm showers. It wasn’t the best night to be out and about, and really Liam should’ve rescheduled—a literal rain check—but he was desperate, and he didn’t want to miss what might have been his only chance to set things right.

Harry flung open the door, looking startled by the sight of Liam doing his best impression of a drowned rat right in front of her.

“You might have let me know you changed addresses,” Liam said acerbically as he marched inside and immediately started to strip down in Harry’s entryway.

Harry stared at him long enough to get a flash of skin as he started to peel off his shirt before turning around to go back down the hall. “I’ll get you some dry clothes,” she offered, still with her back turned.

Liam had managed to get down to just his boxers by the time Harry returned with a fresh set of clothes in hand. He pulled those off too before putting on the dry clothes Harry had provided, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he got dressed. She was looking at him, but not shamelessly. There was a flush in her cheeks, and she looked like she wanted to turn away, but couldn’t.

Liam felt emboldened by that observation, and he’d regained some of his dignity now that he was no longer soaked to the bone. He followed Harry into the kitchen, watching as she sorted through a couple boxes of odds and ends that had been left out on the counters. Liam would have assumed she’d have hired a moving service to do the work for her, but evidently not.

Harry made them both cups of tea in silence. When they each had a mug in hand, she stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island and stared at Liam expectantly. “Well?” she prompted.

Right. Because he’d been the one who wanted to talk. “I like you,” Liam blurted out unceremoniously. He felt a bit like a schoolboy with his first crush, and it was strange, because this was _Harry_ , and he’d never thought twice about her as anything more than a friend before all this, but—he couldn’t deny that he certainly felt some way about her now.

Harry stared at him for a moment before nodding, a blush rising to her cheeks once more. “I like you, too?” she replied uncertainly. “I mean, I suppose that must have been obvious.”

The kiss. Liam would have liked to have said he’d forgotten about it, but the truth was that he replayed the memory whenever he had a quiet moment to himself. It was branded into his grey matter, as far as he was concerned. But even still. “Not obvious, no,” Liam confessed. “You only broke up with Louis because you thought he would dump you,” he pointed out. “You can’t honestly say that you’re over him already, can you?”

Harry bit into her lower lip and shook her head. “No, I guess not,” she said in a soft voice. “At least with you—”

“What?” Liam questioned. “You realise there’s not a difference between Louis and me, right? He might be gay, but I’m not bisexual or whatever, Harry. I’m straight.”

She flinched, white-knuckling her mug. “Well, clearly you’re not as straight as you thought you were,” she said darkly, taking another sip.

Liam set his own mug down and rounded the island to confront her directly. “Yes, I am,” he replied firmly. “It just doesn’t matter.” Harry shied away from him, but Liam reached out to grab her by the elbow, keeping her from running away. He pulled her in close, so they were almost touching, only the mug of tea between them keeping them separated. “Even if you’re a boy sometimes, or just…between, you’re a girl, too, right? And that’s enough.”

Harry lifted her eyes to meet his before just as quickly dropping them down to her mug again. “I don’t think Louis would see it that way,” she confessed.

“But why?” Liam pressed. “If he knew the real situation instead of what Nick told him—”

“What?” Harry’s eyes flicked upward again, and this time there was fire in them. “What do you mean, what Nick told him?”

Liam hesitated before delicately explaining the conversation he’d had with Nick while they were in Rio. He watched as Harry’s expression morphed from disbelief to fury before finally settling in on despair once she realised the extent of the mess they were mired in.

“You should talk to Louis yourself,” Liam tried to convince her. “I don’t think he even believed Nick, anyway. You could do the cup thing.”

That finally got a feeble smile out of her, but she shook her head again, saying simply, “Not yet.”

They didn’t resolve much of anything that night, both of them too exhausted by the prospect of sorting things out with Louis to even contemplate what might come after. Liam pushed Harry and Louis both to the back of his mind again over the next few days, making time to visit his parents again instead and doubling down on his workout regimen. Mark would have been proud. Apparently, stress was a powerful motivator.

Liam didn’t hear from Harry or Louis again until he arrived in Dublin for the start of the European leg. It was nice performing this close to home, even if they were still cooped up in a hotel most of the time. At least Liam knew he had the option to go running home to his mum and dad for a bit between dates if he really needed to.

Harry was even cagier than before now that the band was all back together again, and Louis patently refused to even look her in the eye during their meeting in the green room.

Liam also noticed that Harry was wearing a full sweatshirt over her shorts even though summer was almost upon them and it was already unseasonably warm in Ireland. The venue itself was even warmer, and Liam was sweating through just his vest. He wasn’t sure how Harry was even still alive, let alone not boiling, but then he figured maybe it was another weird oestrogen thing.

Liam was startled when Harry immediately pulled him aside as soon as the meeting was finished and dragged him off to the toilets. They were empty, thankfully, as the first thing Harry did after the door swung shut behind them was lift her hoodie to reveal her breasts, which had grown significantly during their break it seemed and were now clearly visible through her shirt.

Liam swallowed hard as Harry dropped her hoodie again.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said in a frantic voice. “I can’t go on stage like this, god, I’m so fucking stupid. This was a dumb idea, I shouldn’t have even tried to sneak this past management. The fans notice everything—”

Liam cut her off midsentence by yanking her into a tight hug, wishing (not for the first time) that she was a bit shorter so he could pull her head into his chest like he used to do with Sophia. He settled for wrapping his arms around her as tightly as possible and rocking her back and forth until they’d both calmed down a bit: Harry from her near hysterics, and Liam from the speechless silence he’d been stunned into by the sight of Harry’s nipples poking through the fabric of her t-shirt.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out, all right?” Liam said in an effort to console her. He pulled back a bit and gave Harry a reassuring smile. “Maybe Caroline can figure something out.”

“I don’t want to tell Caroline,” Harry replied, near tears already.

Liam nodded. “I know, but we have to do something. You can’t just miss the rest of tour and go into hiding.”

Harry looked like she might be seriously considering that option, but finally she nodded and pulled away from Liam again. “Okay,” she said in a small voice, her eyes still watering as she allowed Liam to lead her out of the toilets and to the dressing room where Caroline and Lou were waiting for them.

Liam made a beeline straight for Caroline, practically bowling Lou over in his haste as she stepped in front of him to get to Harry. “Sorry,” he said to her with a forced smile. “Need to borrow Caro for a minute.”

Liam pulled a very frazzled-looking Caroline into the much smaller dressing room across the hall and locked the door behind them once all three were inside. Harry still looked like she might vomit if she so much as opened her mouth, so Liam decided to take over for her and explain the situation.

“Harry needs a wardrobe change,” Liam said as delicately as possible.

“Okay…” Caroline replied dubiously. “What kind of wardrobe change?”

Liam looked toward Harry and nodded for her to go ahead and show Caroline the problem. “You have to promise not to tell anyone,” Liam warned Caroline as Harry slowly lifted her hoodie. “Not Modest; especially not Lou.”

“Ah,” Caroline said as Harry’s torso was finally revealed. “That is a problem.” She looked up to meet Harry’s eyes. “How long…?”

“A few months,” Harry replied quickly. “I know I should have waited but I—” Her face crumpled, and Liam had to resist the urge to pull her into another hug. “I just need to hide it until the end of tour,” she said miserably. “I didn’t think it would be this noticeable.”

“Right, well.” Caroline looked uncertain as to how to help, and Liam felt the tiny little flicker of hope inside him starting to fizzle out. “I’ll have to stop by the shops and see what I can do,” she said at last. “I’m thinking loose button-ups, something beachy. It’ll be a change from the last leg, but hopefully we can spin it as an image shift for the summer. When it gets colder again, we can put you in some jumpers. All right?”

Harry nodded tearily, but she looked grateful as she stared after Caroline, who immediately turned around to leave so she could get to work. They only had a few more hours before the start of the show after all.

“That went better than I expected,” Liam admitted after she was gone. Harry gave him a withering look in response. “What?” he said. “I’m not saying you made a mistake, H, but we are going to have to tell people on the inside sooner or later. You can’t hide this on your own.”

“I have you,” Harry replied weakly.

Liam smiled. “I know, but it’s not enough.” She needed to come clean to management, honestly, but Liam wasn’t about to try and pressure her into doing that. “You should probably stay here till she gets back,” Liam advised. “I’ll try to keep Lou off your back. Should I tell the lads you’re missing soundcheck.”

Harry nodded, still looking as miserable as ever.

Liam wished there was something he could do to make it better, but short of another hug, he was out of ideas. He gave her a quick squeeze before he left anyway, feeling warmed when it was returned in kind.

Liam trudged back to the others and dutifully informed them that Harry wasn’t feeling well and was going to miss soundcheck so she could rest. The scowl that spread across Louis’s face in response to the news didn’t escape Liam’s notice, but he chose to ignore it for the sake of keeping the peace.

It was clear that Zayn, Niall, and even the members of their backing band were starting to notice that the dynamic of the group had dramatically shifted over the course of the past couple months, but thankfully none of them chose to comment on the fact that Liam had essentially become a glorified babysitter—and mouthpiece—for Harry since the start of tour.

Liam was careful to stay away from Harry for the rest of the night, only seeing her again when she came out of her dressing room to join the others backstage just before the start of the show. She was dressed in a horrifically garish tropical monstrosity in crimson, and even Louis couldn’t help but comment on the thing when he caught sight of it.

“What the hell is that?” Louis demanded, glancing between her outfit and the rest of them still clad in simple t-shirt and skinny jean ensembles.

Harry glared at him and didn’t answer. Louis shook his head and turned away, looking even angrier than he had before.

Both the fans and Modest were taken off-guard by Harry’s sudden wardrobe change that night, but it wasn’t remotely ill-received by the former, which meant that Harry was given carte blanche to keep appearing in slightly baggy Hawaiian tops for the rest of the tour, or at least until the weather got too cold for it.

No one, from what Liam could tell, had guessed at the real reason for Harry’s style shift, which was the most they could hope for, even though Liam was starting to wonder if the rest of the lads shouldn’t wear something a bit louder on stage as well just so Harry wouldn’t stand out quite as much. That idea was swiftly shot down by Liam himself before it could even really take form. Louis would never go for it. Not in a million years. And they didn’t need yet another reason to argue.

Liam couldn’t help his paranoia as they worked their way through the UK shows. He felt like he was constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Right before their last night in Dublin, Liam stumbled straight into Harry’s dressing room without even thinking in his haste to tell her that Lou was on the warpath. He stopped in the doorway, frozen in place as he stared at Harry, who was wearing nothing over her jeans aside from a white compression top that sort of resembled a sports bra. Her belly button piercing glimmered under the low dressing room lights as she spun around to meet Liam’s eyes with a stunned expression of her own.

“You should lock the door,” Liam suggested as he turned away hastily to hide the flush in his cheeks and the growing tightness in his jeans. He’d never been this easy to rile up before, not since he was a teenager, and he wasn’t sure just what it was about Harry that had him in a tizzy, but it needed to stop. Now.

Things went all right in Sunderland and on their first night in Manchester. It was just before the second show that shit finally hit the fan.

Liam headed to the dressing rooms a little later than usual; his family were in town to watch the shows and he’d gotten caught up in a conversation with them, missing his scheduled time in the makeup chair by a nearly an hour.

He’d raced to the dressing room, where Lou was (presumably) waiting and pissed off, after extricating himself from his mum’s clutches, only to open the door to find not just Lou, but Harry as well. They were arguing. Loudly. Liam’s first instinct was to turn tail and run, but then Harry glanced up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, and Liam found his feet moving toward her as if by their own volition.

Lou looked up at Liam in exasperation as he entered the room. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him,” she said with an overexaggerated sigh.

“What’s going on?” Liam asked. Whatever it was, he was pretty certain he wasn’t about to side with Lou.

Lou turned to look at Harry. “Well?” she said expectantly. “You may as well show him.”

Harry’s face was that of a disgruntled child being forced to eat her vegetables as she lifted her hands to show Liam a sheen of pearly white varnish on her fingernails.

“What about it?” Liam asked, nonplussed.

Lou shook her head in disbelief. “He can’t go out on stage like that,” she argued. “I don’t even see why we’re having a discussion about it.”

Liam shrugged. “I think it’s fine,” he said. “It’s barely even noticeable anyway.”

Lou threw her hands up in surrender. “Fine!” she exclaimed before turning around again to wag a scolding finger in front of Harry’s nose. “But it’s on your head if Modest has a fit about it later. And Liam, you’re late.”

Liam nodded and allowed himself to be steered into the makeup chair. He shot a sympathetic glance toward Harry as she slipped out of the room, victorious at last.

Harry was waiting for Liam just outside the door when Lou had finished with him. “You really think people won’t notice?” she asked in a low tone.

Liam wasn’t sure what answer she was hoping for. “It’s fine,” he replied instead. “It looks pretty.”

Harry’s lips curved into a smile, and then she darted towards him, leaving a quick peck against his cheek before she turned on her heel and practically sprinted away in the opposite direction.

Liam rubbed at the warm spot where her lips had just been, the feeling lingering almost like a bee sting. He could have sworn it was still there later that night after he’d gone back to the hotel with his parents, not even the pillow pressing into his cheek able to stifle the heat blossoming against his skin.


	7. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Liam’s next attempt at mending fences came right after their last tour date in Manchester.

Louis had been in a foul mood all day, sulking on his own between soundcheck and the actual performance and refusing to speak a word to anyone—Zayn and Niall included. Liam had had enough.

He marched straight into Louis’s dressing room as he was getting changed after the show to leave the venue. Liam was intent on having this out now, and he threw the door closed behind him, startling Louis into turning around with the ensuing bang.

Louis looked surprised for about half a second; when he realised it was Liam that had interrupted him, he wrenched on his clean t-shirt with a scowl and turned right back around again.

“We need to talk about this,” Liam said firmly.

Louis didn’t look back at him. “No, we don’t,” he replied stonily.

“Lou—”

Louis whirled back around to face Liam again before he could get another word out. “There’s nothing to talk about, Liam, okay?” he said in a hard voice. “Just do whatever the hell you want. Keep me out of it. I’m fucking done.” He stormed past Liam without another word, and Liam was too shocked by the vitriol in his voice to even attempt to stop him.

Liam went home after the show with his parents: a long drive all the way back to Wolves because his dad couldn’t be arsed to stay in a hotel an extra night. Liam had been more annoyed by the change in plans when he’d still been on speaking terms with the band as a whole. Now he was grateful that his flight out to Edinburgh the day after tomorrow would be a lonely one.

His mum caught onto the fact that something was wrong almost as soon as they left the venue; Liam could see the tell-tale signs parental worry in her eyes the second they stepped outside. She kept quiet about it though, something his dad wouldn’t stand for when they got home after Liam immediately slumped onto the sofa with a sigh while his mum made up a cup of tea for him.

“All right, Li, out with it,” Geoff said in a no-nonsense tone as he took a seat on the armchair closest to where Liam’s head was lying on the end of the sofa. “What’s got you in such a strop?”

Liam shrugged, sifting through the available excuses he could give for why he was in such a bad mood. He entertained telling his dad about Sophia, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be comforted over a break-up he wasn’t upset about in the slightest.

His mum came out of the kitchen with his tea before he could think of something. “Here you go, dear,” she said as she carefully placed the cup in his hands before pulling out a blanket to throw over his legs.

“Thanks,” Liam mumbled over the rim of his tea as he took a much-needed sip.

“Liam,” Geoff scolded.

Liam heaved another sigh and pulled himself up into a sitting position, finally looking his dad in the eye. “It’s nothing,” he finally said, the lie sounding flat even to his own ears.

Karen gave him a sceptical look. “We know when something’s wrong, dear. It’s a mother’s intuition.” His father gave a snort of disapproval as she sat down on the other side of the sofa, cornering Liam in like they were staging some kind of intervention. “A parent’s intuition,” she quickly amended.

Liam tilted his head back a bit and stared at the ceiling in consideration. “Louis and I have been fighting over a girl,” he finally decided to reveal.

“A girl?” his dad said at the same time as his mother asked, “Sophia?”

Liam looked to Geoff first with a quizzical expression, wondering why he’d seemed so surprised by the prospect of a girl being the source of conflict between Liam and Louis. Had everyone but Liam known Louis was gay? He turned to his mum next and shook his head. “No,” he said without elaborating further. “It’s not Sophia.”

Karen nodded like she understood the situation anyway. His dad just continued to stare, waiting for Liam to elaborate.

Liam took another sip of his tea and then set the cup down on the coffee table. “I tried talking to Ruth about it,” he admitted as he drew the blanket his mum had given him up around his shoulders. “But she said I should just forget about Louis and go for it. And I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

His dad nodded in agreement.

Liam hesitated. “But—”

“You aren’t seriously thinking about taking that advice, are you?” Geoff questioned with a frown. He scooted forward, perching on the edge of the armchair the way he always did when he was preparing to give Liam a lecture. “Is tearing the band apart over a girl really worth it? I know you’ve had your fair share of comparisons to the Beatles, Li, but Yoko?” The joke fell flat. Geoff changed tacks. “Louis’s been your best friend for years,” he said instead. “You really sure you want to risk losing that?”

Liam sniffled. He surprised even himself when he nodded a few seconds later. “Yeah,” he replied in a small voice. “I think she might be worth it, Dad.”

It was his mum who swooped in first with a hug, mumbling reassurances against his temple like he was still five years old instead of nearly twenty-one. “It’ll all work out in the end, Li,” she reassured him. “I know it will.”

Liam spent the next day chilling out at home with his phone on Do Not Disturb. He was good about it; he didn’t check social media once, instead losing himself in a marathon of nature documentaries and feel-good comedies with his mum and dad, like he was back at home during a school holiday instead of taking a well-deserved break between sold out stadium shows on a headlining world tour. What even was his life anymore?

As a consequence of his abstinence from anything that had even the slightest chance to upset him, Liam didn’t realise that something had happened until he got to Scotland and joined the others before their next show, at which point Zayn gravitated toward him with a serious expression and a warning.

“Heads up,” he said to both Liam and Niall as he passed by to go to the toilets. “Louis and Harry are having it out again.”

The smarter thing for Liam to have done would have been to ignore it. Louis and Harry fighting wasn’t any of his business. Except that there was the slightest chance that it was his business, because the fight might have well been about Liam himself.

He tracked them down against his better judgment, finding the two of them tucked into an isolated corner backstage where they were trading furious whispers away from any would-be eavesdroppers. Louis caught sight of Liam first, but he didn’t so much as take a breath as he continued arguing with Harry in a hushed tone that Liam couldn’t make out until he was practically right on top of them.

“What’s going on?” Liam asked, not wanting to be rude and listen in on the fight. Apart from just being polite, he was a little worried that if he lingered too long without interrupting, one of them might have said something he really didn’t want to hear.

Harry whirled around to face him, startled. She hadn’t realised he was even there. Her face hardened again when she glanced back at Louis. “Nothing,” she said. “It’s stupid.”

Louis scowled. “ _Someone_ decided to participate in some gay pride campaign,” he elaborated through gritted teeth. “And now, of course, the internet is in a fucking tizzy about it.”

Harry snapped her head back to glare at him. “Not everything I do has to be about you,” she replied.

“Except that it always is!” Louis shot back, finally raising his voice.

Before Liam could even come up with a way to diffuse the situation, a much larger form was descending upon them, casting a shadow on the little group huddled together backstage. Paul.

“What’s going on, guys?” he asked in a measured tone.

All three looked up at him, properly chagrined even without a lecture.

“Nothing,” Harry finally said. “I have to go do hair and makeup.”

Paul nodded like he thought that was a very good idea, and after watching her go, he turned around to face Louis and Liam again. “Any problems here?” he asked warningly, sounding very much like a schoolteacher ready to split up a particularly problematic pair of troublemaking students in the back of the class.

Liam and Louis both shook their heads in unison. “No,” they muttered.

“Good.” Paul clapped them both on the shoulder before walking away again.

Liam was tempted to go after Harry, who had just vanished into one of the side doors that led to their dressing rooms, just to make sure she was really all right, but he’d had time to think things over while he’d been cooped up at his parents’ house. He and Louis needed to work this out.

“Come on,” Liam said to Louis, making it clear he wouldn’t accept an argument.

Louis followed him with a surprising lack of resistance, and when Liam finally found an empty room to hole up in, he turned around to face Louis again, steeling himself for what he needed to say next.

“I need you to just listen for a moment,” Liam pleaded.

Louis crossed his arms over his chest, his expression hard. “All right,” he replied gruffly.

Liam sucked in a deep breath. “So what Nick said to you wasn’t a joke.” Louis’s face didn’t change. “But it wasn’t entirely correct, either. Harry’s not…she’s not a woman, but she’s not a man, either.” He waited for Louis to react, but there was nothing, no evidence on his face even to indicate that he’d understood a single word Liam had said. “She’s taking oestrogen,” Liam finally continued. “That’s why I’ve been with her so much, ‘cos I’m the only one who knows. Well, and Caroline.” He sighed. “And, yeah. That sums it up, I guess.”

Louis stared at him for a few seconds longer before opening his mouth to reply. “I don’t know why Harry feels the need to change everything if he’s not even a woman, like you said,” Louis commented in a slow voice. “He was just fine before all this.”

“I wouldn’t call it fine,” Liam replied, wincing a bit as he remembered how torn up Harry had been before. “It’s not a new thing,” he explained. “She’s always felt like this; she just used to be better at hiding it. She didn’t think she had any other choice, you know? And the only reason she even broke up with you was because she was afraid—” Liam cut himself off, suddenly worried he’d said too much.

Louis’s eyes narrowed. “Afraid of what?” he asked. His stance had relaxed a bit while Liam had been talking, but now it stiffed back into place, all tense lines and hard angles without an ounce of softness to betray his true feelings about the matter.

“She thought _you’d_ break up with _her_ ,” Liam reluctantly explained, “once you found out about—you know.”

Louis’s expression remained just as stoic as ever. “Well, I guess she was right,” he replied cryptically before turning around and walking straight out of the room. He didn’t give Liam a chance to stop him, but Liam didn’t have the energy for it anyway.

Liam had the distinct impression that he should have felt happy or relieved that Louis didn’t want anything to do with Harry anymore, but instead he just felt even worse than he had before.

He waited a bit before joining up with the others again for soundcheck, sans Louis this time. Niall expressed his concern about Louis’s absence, but Liam was quick to reassure him that Louis wouldn’t just bail on them right before a show, even though he wasn’t actually too convinced of that fact himself.

In the end, Louis did come back just in time for soundcheck, but his interactions with the rest of the band were stilted. He barely even acknowledged either Liam and Harry, and the same held true during the performance itself. Liam couldn’t bring himself to even look at social media to see what conclusions the fans had already drawn about the palpable tension onstage between the three of them.

There were an extra couple of days between Edinburgh and their first London date so they could all get some rest and relaxation in their own homes. Liam made the most of his free time by alternating gym sessions with moping around uselessly in his flat. He banished his phone to the depths of his pants drawer this time, choosing not to even look at it until the day of the show. He deleted all of his unread texts from Zayn, and Niall, and Paul, and some of the other boys. They weren’t that important, anyway.

Liam still wasn’t sure where he and Harry stood, but that didn’t stop him from seeking her out as soon as he arrived at Wembley, after finding out from Michael and Luke that she’d disappeared about half an hour before he’d arrived and that no one had seen any sign of her since. Liam knew that going after her would only attract more unwanted attention to the nature of their relationship, but—fuck it, he thought. He didn’t care anymore.

Harry was locked inside her dressing room, of course, her new fortress of solitude now that the green room with Louis and the others was no longer a safe space for her.

Liam knocked patiently, and then loudly announced his presence when she didn’t answer right away. Finally, she opened the door, her face looking tired and pinched through the gap as she stared back at him without actually letting him in.

“Can I?” Liam asked, gesturing past her.

Harry gave a short nod and moved to let him through. Liam noticed immediately why she seemed so hesitant to open the door. There was a distinctly medical-looking vial sat out on the makeup table in front of the mirror, and next to it, what was unmistakably a syringe.

“What’s all that for?” Liam wondered as Harry carefully locked the door again.

She walked past him with a sigh and slumped down into the makeup chair. “I had to switch to injectable oestrogen,” she explained. “The patches were too noticeable.”

Liam lifted his eyebrows. “How’d you know the fans were catching on?” he asked. “I thought you were staying away from that sort of stuff.”

“I am,” Harry replied, wrinkling her nose a bit. “I told a few people what I was doing before I decided to go ahead with all this,” she admitted. “Jeff knows someone at a PR firm who agreed to monitor things discreetly. In case….” She didn’t finish the thought.

“You told Jeff,” Liam said slowly. Harry nodded. “But not the rest of the band?”

Harry’s mouth twisted into something deeply unpleasant. Liam held up his hands in surrender, deciding to drop that line of questioning once and for all.

“Did you tell your family, too?” Liam wondered.

“Of course,” Harry replied, looking annoyed by the question.

An awkward silence descended. Liam started to back toward the door. “Sorry,” he said, “I can leave you alone—”

Harry jumped up unexpectedly from her chair. “Wait,” she said, her face rapidly turning a bright shade of red. “I, um—could you help me first?”

Liam stared at her in innocent bewilderment. “With what?”

Harry glanced toward the syringe still sat out on the table. “I don’t think I can do the injection myself,” she said sheepishly. “I was waiting for Gemma to get here so she could help, but I think she’s stuck in traffic or something.”

“Oh.” Liam eyed the syringe and vial dubiously. “What if I mess it up?”

“You won’t mess it up,” Harry reassured him. “Here.” She beckoned him over before turning around to draw some pre-determined amount of liquid from the vial, after which she capped the syringe and set it back down again. Then she braced one hand against the table, leaned forward, and quickly shoved the back of her trousers down to expose her bare arse to the air.

Liam just stared at her for a few seconds, gaping at the sight of Harry’s arse—which had filled out a lot in recent months, it seemed. He could feel himself started to get hard just at the sight of it and panicked.

“Well?” Harry prompted as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

Liam scrambled forward to pick up the syringe and tried very hard not to focus on her bum. “So, what do I do?” he asked helplessly.

“Antiseptic wipe there,” Harry replied, gesturing toward the small foil packet that lay next to the syringe. “Rub it right around here,” she said as she pointed toward the fleshy part of her arse on the upper right, “and give me a quick jab.”

“Quick?”

“Like a plaster, Liam,” Harry replied with a breathy laugh. “It’ll hurt either way, might as well not drag it out.”

“Right.” Liam was still afraid of horribly injuring her, but somehow he managed to do as she’d instructed while simultaneously ignoring the fact that his dick was now pressing uncomfortably against the zip of his trousers.

There was something strangely erotic about the way her skin dimpled under the pressure of the needle as he pressed it into her skin. Liam pushed those thoughts away quickly and focused instead on making sure his hand was steady when he depressed the plunger.

Harry gave a little sigh as Liam pulled the needle back out again. “Thanks,” she said, handing him a bit of gauze. “You mind?”

Liam shook his head and pressed the square to the small bead of blood that had started to form on Harry’s skin. “How long should I…?” he asked as he averted his eyes and stared at the floor instead of Harry’s bare arse.

“About thirty seconds or so. Then the plaster should be fine.”

Thirty seconds felt like an eternity to Liam, whose little problem only worsened the longer he stood there instead of fading away like he’d hoped. It was hard to focus on anything, think about anything but Harry with her right there, close enough that he could smell her even if he closed his eyes.

“Okay,” Harry finally said, prompting Liam to grab for the plaster and hastily slap it on before just as quickly making an excuse to leave.

“I have to—” Liam stuttered. “Dressing room,” he said lamely, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he half-sprinted out of Harry’s. Liam just hoped that the erection fighting against the fly of his jeans hadn’t looked as obvious as it felt.

Liam didn’t go to his dressing room after he left Harry, though. He made a detour into the toilets instead, throwing himself into the nearest available cubicle and fighting to get his trousers undone as quickly as possible. He wanked himself off into the toilet, jerking his arm furiously, to the point where his elbow hurt after he was finished. He could taste blood in his mouth, and it took him another minute to realise he’d nearly bitten through his lip. What the fuck was Harry doing to him?

Liam took a few deep breaths, swiped his thumb across his lower lip in an effort at wiping away any lingering traces of blood, and stepped out of the cubicle only to run straight into Zayn.

“Oh,” Liam said in surprise as Zayn narrowed his eyes at him.

It was impossible to say how long he’d been stood there, but Zayn’s expression didn’t seem to indicate he’d overheard Liam’s stifled grunts as he fought to get himself off only just a few moments ago. But his face wasn’t entirely neutral either; he clearly wanted something from Liam.

“What’s with you and Harry all of a sudden?” Zayn asked suspiciously as he braced himself against the sink behind him.

Liam froze in place, suddenly terrified that Zayn knew exactly what he’d been up to inside the cubicle. “I dunno what you mean,” he mumbled in the guiltiest voice possible, but before Zayn could call him on it, the bathroom door opened to reveal Niall, red-faced and breathless from exertion.

“They moved soundcheck up twenty minutes,” Niall explained. “They want us out there now. Griffiths just got here; wants to have a meeting.”

Zayn and Liam exchanged dubious glances before following Niall out. A meeting with management was never a good thing.

Liam’s instincts turned out to be right in the end. Griffiths was waiting for the lot of them when they returned to the green room after soundcheck, trying and failing to look casual as he reclined on one of the couches. His eyes zoomed in on Harry as soon as she stepped into the room, narrowing in disapproval.

“You’re not wearing makeup, are you?” Griffiths demanded in a derisive tone.

Harry blanched. The rest of them shifted restlessly, not sure what to say in her defence. Liam especially, since he knew now that any interaction with Harry would be met with immediate scrutiny from the rest of the lads.

“No,” Harry replied quickly.

Too quickly. Griffiths didn’t look the slightest bit convinced by her answer. “You know the fans noticed your little stunt with the nail varnish,” he commented as he sat up a bit, his eyes finally turning to the others.

“Wasn’t a stunt,” Harry muttered under her breath even though Griffiths had already stopped paying attention to her. She took a seat on the end of the sofa furthest from where Griffiths was sat and curled up into a ball, making herself as small as possible as though that would prevent any further verbal attacks.

The ensuing lecture revolved around upholding the band’s ‘image’, whatever that really was—they’d been through enough re-brandings already to last them a lifetime. The whole time Griffiths droned on and on about their responsibility to the band, his eyes never left Harry, though she didn’t so much as once look up to meet them.

Liam wished he could have intervened somehow, but he knew that any outburst in her defence would only make things worse.

And by the end of it, once Griffiths had left, Harry looked visibly shaken by the lecture, though she hadn’t uttered a single word during. Liam didn’t know what to do. He watched helplessly as the others went through the motions of preparing to go onstage later around her, never really paying much attention to the fact that she seemed to be frozen in the foetal position on the sofa still.

Liam brushed his thumb over the nape of her neck as he passed by on the way to his dressing room, hoping it would provide some small amount of reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

The show itself went off without a hitch, but Liam could tell that Harry’s performance was just slightly off all night, even if it wasn’t something the fans themselves would notice. He wasn’t surprised when he found her in tears backstage after the show, her phone clutched in her hands as she scrolled through Twitter, no doubt in some masochistic effort at finding out just what criticisms people saw fit to hurl at her through the veil of cyberspace.

“Don’t,” Liam said quietly as he sat down beside her and plucked her phone straight out of her hands. He pulled it out of reach immediately, ignoring the little noise of protest that slipped out of her mouth as soon as her hands were empty. “You did fine,” he told her, and it wasn’t a lie. It hadn’t been her best show, but it hadn’t been her worst, either, not by a long shot, and there was no reason for her to be sat feeling sorry for herself while the other boys celebrated with friends and family in the green room.

Then Liam started to look through the tweets Harry had been scrolling through while she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist. He was distracted momentarily by Harry’s head nuzzling into his chest, but Harry’s search results were unfortunately more demanding of his attention. She hadn’t been looking up critiques of her performance during the show. She’d been looking for evidence that people knew what she was hiding.

And it was no small amount of evidence that she’d found. Or strong suspicion at the very least. The general consensus was that something was amiss, though it seemed no one had figured out just what it was yet. Liam’s stomach dropped. They still had months left of touring, of Harry being in the spotlight day after day. And after that, the album release. She was already struggling to keep this a secret. How could they possibly hope to continue hiding it when the fans were this close to the truth already?

“Did I fuck up?” Harry asked in a small voice. Apparently, her thoughts had been running a parallel course to Liam’s. She glanced up at him with a soft and frightened expression.

Liam found himself shaking his head. “It’s not your responsibility to pretend you’re someone you’re not,” he told her, feeling strangely like he was embodying his dad in that moment, back when Liam had still been fourteen and struggling to reconcile his dreams of becoming a singer with the reality of his life as a kid that no one liked stuck in Wolverhampton. For Liam, being kicked off of X Factor that first time had felt like the whole world was ending; he couldn’t imagine how much worse things were for Harry. “Being happy is more important than making other people comfortable.”

Harry nodded, her eyes tearing up a bit more even so. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“But we should probably tell Modest,” Liam continued, blurting the words out all in one go. “Before it gets out of hand, yeah?”

Harry was silent for a few seconds before glancing up to meet Liam’s eyes again. “I’m scared,” she confessed.

Liam squeezed her even tighter, wishing there was some way he could fix that. But the only solution he could think of was telling Modest about all of this on her behalf, and he wasn’t nearly brave enough to attempt that.

But maybe there was another middleman who could intercede for both of them.

“Ben’s in town still, isn’t he?” Liam asked.

Harry looked mildly confused by the question. “Yeah, why?”

“Maybe he could talk to Modest for you,” Liam suggested. Of course, that would necessitate explaining things to Ben first, and he could see Harry’s face going white as she realised that very fact. “It’s just an idea,” Liam rushed to add.

Harry nodded slowly. “No, you’re right,” she replied, though she still sounded reluctant. “Could you—” She turned to look at him again. “Would you come with me?” she asked.

Liam had been planning on making it an early night since they still had back-to-back shows ahead of them, but he found himself nodding in agreement anyway. “Of course,” he said, as though there was no other possible answer. And maybe there wasn’t.

They slipped out without even saying goodbye to the other lads, which in hindsight maybe wasn’t the best idea. But it was too late to do anything about it by the time Liam was in Harry’s car with his forehead pressed against the passenger window, so he put it out of his mind for the moment and hoped their covert departure wouldn’t come up again the next time they all saw each other before the second show.

It was raining when they reached Ben’s. It sort of felt like a bad omen, and Liam chewed nervously at his lower lip—still sore from when he’d bit it earlier in the toilets—as they waited for someone to answer the door.

Ben was the one who answered, not Meri, which made things easier and harder all at once. His eyes focussed in on Liam immediately, narrowing in suspicion. Liam realised he’d never made good on his promise to tell Ben what had happened between Harry and Louis; nor had he fixed the problem itself. If anything, he’d just made it even worse.

“What’s going on?” Ben asked as he stepped out of the way so they could both come inside.

They were only a bit damp, but Harry ended up shedding most of her clothes right there in the foyer like it was still her house. Liam chose to be a bit more conservative and only hung up his coat, acutely aware the whole time of Ben’s eyes tracking his every move.

Meredith was snoozing on the sofa when they passed through the sitting room to get to Ben’s office on the other side of the house. Harry and Liam were careful not to make too much noise as they walked by, and Ben closed the door slowly and silently behind them after they entered.

Harry plopped herself down on the armchair immediately. Liam hovered nearby, not anywhere close to comfortable with sitting down as Ben turned to look at them questioningly. He wasn’t sure how Harry could look so casual, seeing as how she’d been bricking it back at Wembley. Maybe she just found it easier to hide her anxiety now that she’d had a bit of time to mentally prepare. Liam felt like he was vibrating out of his skin.

“Having a late one, are we?” Ben prompted as he rounded his desk to stand in front of his chair, his eyes carefully scanning each of them in turn.

Liam looked to Harry, wondering if he should try to explain for her. She saved him the trouble.

“I did something stupid,” Harry said in a surprisingly level voice.

Ben’s face didn’t change. “All right,” he replied easily. “You didn’t get a fan pregnant, I hope.”

Liam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry that that was the worst possible thing Ben could think of.

“God, no.” Harry blanched. “No, absolutely not. I, um—” Finally, she looked to Liam for help.

Liam wasn’t really sure what to say, but he gave it his best attempt regardless. “Harry and I went behind Modest’s back,” he explained, even though in truth it was really only Harry who had done so. Liam had enabled her, but ultimately it had been her decision. It felt only right to share the blame, though. “She’s—” Liam looked away, not sure he wanted to see Ben’s reaction to the news about Harry’s gender. “Harry’s transgender,” he said as he stared at Harry herself instead, while she looked down at the floor, stone-faced throughout Liam’s explanation. “She decided not to wait to transition, and now we don’t know what to do about breaking it to Modest.”

Finally, Liam looked up again. Ben, surprisingly, didn’t look remotely confused by Liam’s stumbling elaboration at all, and he wondered if Harry had let on more than she’d intended to while she’d been living with the Winstons.

“By transgender,” Ben said slowly, “do you mean…?”

“Yes,” Harry bit out, her face bright red. Evidently, they’d had some version of this discussion before. Well, that explained things a bit.

Ben sighed and moved away from his desk, coming round to where Harry was sat in the armchair and extending a hand for her to take. She did so, looking a bit suspicious of it even so, and Ben pulled her up and into his arms, hugging her tightly.

Liam felt a flash of something white-hot and painful deep in his belly. He pushed the feeling away, not wanting to examine it any further, and looked down at his feet while he waited out Harry and Ben’s embrace.

Liam looked up again as the door to Ben’s study opened to reveal Meredith, bleary-eyed but with a tea tray clutched in her hands. “You boys look like you could use a cuppa,” she remarked as she walked inside to set the tray down on Ben’s desk.

None of the three of them bothered to correct her on her language. Ben would have to sort that out with her in his own time.

Harry broke free of Ben’s hold before Meredith could exit the study and reached out to grab the sleeve of her dressing gown. She looked like a child asking for sweets as she stared up at the woman pleadingly.

“Can we stay here tonight?” she asked, taking Liam by surprise. He’d been anticipating calling a cab to take him back to his flat once they were finished.

Liam looked from Meredith to Ben, trying to predict how they’d respond.

“Of course,” Meredith replied first. She bent down to place a gentle kiss directly on the top of Harry’s head. “You’re always welcome to stay over, dear.”

“I’ll put down some fresh linens,” Ben volunteered as he moved away from Harry toward the door in pursuit of his wife, leaving Liam and Harry alone in the study to finish their tea while their hosts made preparations for them to stay the night.

There was no reason for either of them to be sleeping in Ben’s attic when they both had perfectly good beds to go home to, but if this was what Harry wanted to do, then Liam wasn’t about to argue with her.

They drank their tea in silence and waited for Ben to come back. Once they were settled in upstairs, a peculiar tension began to coil in the air between them.

“You know, I usually sleep naked,” Harry joked as they changed into some spare pyjamas the Winstons had provided.

“That probably wouldn’t be a good idea,” Liam responded without thinking, and his reply only made the air even thicker.

When he turned around, Harry was crawling under the sheets in just a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts, to contrast with Liam’s flannel pyjama trousers. He’d forgone the shirt, but as he climbed into bed next to Harry, he began to wonder if that hadn’t been a bad idea after all.

Liam quickly tried to find a comfortable position on his side, facing away from Harry, and closed his eyes, intending on falling asleep as quickly as possible. It was a futile effort, of course; every molecule in Liam’s body seemed to be hyperaware of Harry next to him.

Liam was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realise Harry was still awake until she pounced, suddenly, like a jaguar leaping on top of him, and then before he could even ask what she was doing, her lips were on his, coaxing them open so she could kiss him even more deeply than the first time.

Liam gave into it helplessly, feeling like a damsel in distress under Harry as he laid there and let her ravish him.

“Is this okay?” she finally asked a few moments later, pulling away so they could both breathe again.

Liam nodded silently, his eyes wide as he stared up at Harry’s silhouette in the darkness. The side of her face was all lit up in moonlight, and he caught himself thinking that she was the prettiest girl he thought he’d ever seen.

Liam didn’t know how to react when she leant down to kiss him again. His pyjama trousers were drawn tight over his semi; every swivel of Harry’s hips against his abdomen seemed to bring her closer to the prize. Once they crossed that line…Liam wasn’t so sure he could ever come back from that.

But he didn’t stop Harry when her hand slipped under the waistband of his pyjamas to grasp his cock. Her hand was cool and clammy—Liam gasped into her mouth at the unexpected sensation of her sweat-slick fingers against his bare skin.

When Harry began to wank him off in earnest, Liam finally broke the kiss, his head falling onto the pillow with a strangled moan. He just stared up at her as she moved her hand over him: slowly at first, and then faster, twisting around the head on every stroke with all the practise of someone who’d been giving handjobs for years.

She had, Liam had to remind himself. Harry’d had plenty of practise getting herself off in the past; it shouldn’t have been a surprise that those skills translated into Liam coming quickly undone with every snap of her wrist.

“Fuck,” Liam whispered, panting. He wasn’t sure if they could be any louder, if Ben and Meri would hear them. “Fuck, you—”

Harry cut him off with another kiss, the movements of her hand turning frantic now. When Liam came, it was with a yell muffled by Harry’s mouth, his body jerking violently under her own as he rode out the aftershocks with her hand still wrapped tight around his cock. He pushed her away when it began to be too much and stared up at her open-mouthed and shuddering, like he’d just had some sort of near-death experience.

Harry was still pressed up against him, close enough that he could tell she was soft in Ben’s boxer shorts. Liam blinked up at her, his mouth working uselessly. “I don’t…” he stammered in an attempt to communicate that while he was willing to reciprocate, he had no idea what he was doing. “I’m not sure—”

“Just kiss me,” Harry breathed out between them before closing the distance once more.

Liam wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady as they kissed, while Harry snaked a hand down between their torsos, rubbing over herself flat with the palm of her hand in a way that felt to Liam more like how Sophia would get herself off than how he himself would masturbate.

The kiss was messier now, Harry hardly able to maintain the join of their lips as she writhed and gasped on top of Liam. He moved his mouth down to her throat without asking but was careful not to leave any marks. His free hand, as if of its own accord, travelled up her side to rest at her breast. He thumbed delicately over her nipple, revelling in the way she jolted on top of him like she’d been electrocuted every time he made contact.

“Oh my god,” Harry gasped as she finally sat up a bit, careful not to dislodge Liam’s hand from her breast as she ground her hips down into her own hand, her arse rubbing not-unpleasantly over Liam’s softening cock.

Liam shivered underneath her and gripped her waist even tighter. He wanted to watch her come.

When she finally did, it was with a loud bitten-off cry that morphed instantly into tears. Liam stared up at her in alarm for a few seconds before tugging her head down into his chest. He rubbed circles against her heaving back and panicked, wondering if he should go downstairs and get Ben or Meredith—provided they hadn’t been disturbed by all the noise already.

“I’m sorry,” Liam whispered over the sound of Harry’s sobbing. “I didn’t—I don’t really know—”

“It’s not you,” Harry replied through her tears. “I just…I miss Lou,” she confessed.

Liam froze as his stomach churned unpleasantly. Any trace of afterglow that might have still lingered vanished in that instant. She’d been thinking of Louis. Right. Of course.

“I know,” Liam forced out. “It’s okay.” He rolled them both over onto their sides and let Harry cry into his shoulder until she finally fell asleep. It was a few hours before he managed to do the same.

The next morning, it was like nothing had happened—for Harry, at least. She was as chipper as ever over breakfast with the Winstons, while Liam sat in sullen silence and poked miserably at his sausage with his fork, still feeling ill over the realisation that Harry’s first thought after they’d gotten off together—and maybe even during—had been about _Louis_.

After that, Liam made a more concentrated effort to stay the fuck away from Harry, as if doing so would somehow undo the fact that they’d slept together (more or less). There was a vain hope in the back of his mind that keeping his distance would in turn endear Louis to Harry again, and he didn’t have a chance of figuring out why that was still so important to him. Maybe he had a masochistic streak as well.

But despite Liam’s best efforts, nothing seemed to change as the European leg continued. Except for Harry, that is.

Liam couldn’t deny that there was a quantifiable difference in her appearance now, and the fans were quick to catch on, as always. More and more they seemed to be connecting the dots, and Liam had to bite his tongue every time he and Harry had a spare moment alone together. Putting more pressure on her to come clean to Modest—or to have Ben do it for her—wouldn’t speed up the process any. He knew Harry too well to fool himself into thinking that.

It wasn’t until Harry decided to sneak in a cheeky ‘Happy Pride’ during the tour film that Liam finally decided something needed to be done.

He pulled her aside backstage after the performance, his grip on her arm almost bruising. Harry stared at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You should know,” Liam replied, harsher than he’d intended for it to sound. “You need to tell them, Harry. This is getting out of hand.”

Harry’s expression shuttered, but she didn’t argue the point. “Fine,” she said in a clipped tone.

“I mean it, H. This is going to blow up in your face if you try to ignore it for much longer.”

“I said ‘fine’, Liam,” Harry reiterated as she tore her arm out of his grasp with an annoyed look. “I’ll tell them after,” she said. “When we’re back in London.”

Liam supposed that would have to be good enough for now.


	8. July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

It wasn’t until the day of their show in Dusseldorf that Liam realised he hadn’t so much as spoken to Sophia since she’d told him she wanted to take a break. Neither of them had really discussed how long this supposed break was meant to be, and Liam wasn’t sure if calling her would violate the sanctity of it, but the fans had started to notice her absence, and they were asking questions that Liam couldn’t answer.

So he called her.

“Hey,” Sophia said after the second ring, her tone audibly guarded.

“Hi,” Liam replied. He wasn’t sure what to say next. “I’m not like, calling to ask you to get back together,” he continued with a loud sigh, bracing himself for a negative response—screaming, crying, Sophia hanging up on him without saying another word.

He hadn’t been expecting the breathy laugh of relief that immediately followed his confession. “Oh, thank god,” Sophia exclaimed. “I thought I was going to have to figure out how to let you down easy.”

Liam thought that he probably should have been more offended by the implications of that statement, but he couldn’t muster up the energy for it. “Yeah, no, I just thought we should clear things up,” he said.

Sophia’s tone turned suspicious. “Are you interested in someone else?” she demanded. “Not that that would be a bad thing.”

“No,” Liam protested weakly. He kicked the sheets off his feet. Talking on the phone always made him sweat for some reason. Talking to Sophia was just making it worse. “No, I’m—I just have a lot on my mind and I thought it would be better if we…. It’s complicated,” he admitted.

“I’ve got time.”

Liam quickly contemplated just how much to tell her. Sophia wasn’t the gossipy type; anything he told her would be kept in strict confidence. He knew that. But there were still some things he didn’t have the right to share.

“I’ve been fighting with Louis a bit,” he finally confessed.

Sophia sighed as if she’d been expecting him to say something of the sort. “Over what?” she asked.

Liam bit his lip. “Um….”

“Liam.”

Liam screwed his eyes shut and tried to figure out how to explain without truly saying anything at all. “I promised I wouldn’t talk about something,” he finally told Sophia, after deciding that honesty was really the only way to go about it. “But the person I promised….”

“Harry, was it?”

Liam’s brain short-circuited. He hadn’t mentioned Harry yet, had he?

“That’s what I thought,” Sophia continued, taking his silence for the confirmation it was. “What you and Louis are fighting about, it doesn’t have to do with what people are saying on Twitter, does it?”

“Maybe?” Liam replied in a tight voice. He wasn’t sure exactly what Sophia meant by that, but he could hazard a guess, and he was even more alarmed now that the fringe theories had apparently gained enough traction that they were making their way back to Sophia, who had barely paid any mind to the fandom when they were still together. “You can’t say anything,” he hurried to add even though he wasn’t sure what Sophia even could say.

“I’m guessing Louis’s been…less than supportive?” she said.

Liam nodded to himself. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“Harry’s all right though, isn’t he? Or, um, she? Is that—?”

“Yeah,” Liam said again, cutting her off. “And yeah, she’s okay. I think. It’s complicated right now, but not many people know, so….”

Sophia let out a hollow laugh. “I don’t think you can really say that anymore,” she replied. “The majority of the fandom might not put any stock in it, but plenty of people have started to guess what’s going on.”

And that was exactly what Liam had been afraid of. He sucked in a deep breath and made a mental note to message Harry about this later. Or Ben. Someone. They needed to get ahead of this somehow, before things completely escaped their ability to control. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s…yeah. I suppose I’ve been stressed out about that, too.”

“Well, tell Louis to get his head out of his arse then first,” Sophia advised.

Liam gave a weak laugh in return. “I’ll try,” he promised.

But it ended up being yet another promise he had failed to fulfil. Instead, he continued to stay away from Louis and Harry both, while they became more and more estranged from the rest of the band—Harry in particular, thanks to the fact that Louis seemed to have gotten both Zayn and Niall in the divorce.

Staying away from Harry was harder than it should have been, however. Liam’s resolve broke nearly a week into July, when he decided on a whim to visit her room at the hotel they were staying in for their upcoming show in Turin.

Liam was equal parts surprised and relieved when Harry opened the door shortly after he knocked, but she didn’t say a word to him as he followed her inside, and when she sat down on the bed, he could tell immediately that something was wrong.

“You packed some nail varnishes, right?” Liam said brightly, hoping that feigning a good mood would help break her out of her funk a bit.

Harry glanced up, seeming surprised by his chipper tone. She nodded warily. “They’re in my toiletry bag,” she told him.

Liam nipped into the bathroom to retrieve it before re-joining Harry, this time bounding onto the foot of the bed to sit in front of her with his legs crossed. “Take off your socks,” he directed as he pulled out a bottle of bright yellow varnish from her bag. “I’ll do your toes.”

Harry predictably perked up a bit at the prospect of being pampered and eagerly shed her fluffy pair of indoor socks—almost more slipper than sock, honestly—so that Liam could get to work.

Her feet were soft in his hands. They were still the bony feet he remembered, though there was something different about them now. They almost looked smaller, but Liam was pretty sure that not even the magic of oestrogen could shrink someone’s bones, so he convinced himself it was just a trick of the light and focussed on painting Harry’s toenails like he’d promised.

Liam half-expected that having Harry’s misshapen, pigeon-toed feet in his hands would end up mitigating his growing attraction to her, but somehow, it managed to have the opposite effect. He narrowed his eyes in concentration as he carefully painted each toenail, not even daring to glance up at her face as he worked. He knew seeing her expression would only make the throbbing ache inside his chest even worse.

Once Liam had finished, he went to go put the varnish back inside Harry’s bag, still with her feet propped up on either of his thighs, her toes outstretched so they’d dry.

“Wait,” Harry said before Liam could finish tucking the bottle back into the pocket where it belonged.

He finally looked up at her again. It was just as big of a mistake as he’d thought it would be.

“Can you do my fingernails, too?” Harry asked, oblivious to the war of head and heart that was currently raging inside of Liam, only growing stronger the longer he allowed himself to look at her.

“We have a show tomorrow,” Liam heard himself saying as if from a mouth that wasn’t his own.

Harry frowned slightly. “I know,” she replied in a flat voice. “So can you?”

Liam nodded even though it was against his better judgment to agree. He just hoped she planned on letting Lou take it off before the show this time. He didn’t want to witness the aftermath if she really planned to wear it onstage the next night.

After he finished painting her fingernails, Harry offered to do Liam’s in turn. He accepted, but only on the condition that she would paint just his toes. “Can you do purple?” he requested eagerly.

They compared their feet afterward and posed them together so Harry could take a photo. Liam suddenly couldn’t remember why he’d been staying away from her in the first place anymore. And it was with a heavy heart that he declined when she asked him to stay and hang out with her after, once their nails were dry and Liam had pulled his socks back on with the intent to leave.

“I can’t,” Liam admitted as he turned around to face Harry again, the pout plastered across her face pulling predictably at his heartstrings. “I promised the lads I’d go out for drinks. You could come?”

An expression of distaste flitted across Harry’s face. “No thanks,” she replied huffily. “I think I’m gonna go to bed early tonight.”

Both of them knew that was just an excuse, that the real reason she had refused was because Louis was going to be there, but if Harry wasn’t ready to acknowledge the truth, then Liam certainly wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

“Okay,” Liam said easily. He got up and moved over to give her a hug. “Goodnight, then.”

“Night.”

Liam had a crisis of conscience over ditching Harry at least half a dozen times between their floor and the lobby, where the other boys were already waiting with the car service.

“You get lost or something?” Zayn ribbed as they climbed into the back with Niall and Louis, while the 5SOS boys packed into the middle.

Liam wasn’t in the mood to come up with a response at all, much less a good-natured one, so he settled for saying nothing instead of something that almost definitely would have led to a fight. Zayn wisely left him alone after that, and Louis and Niall thankfully followed suit.

Being at the club was even worse than Liam had anticipated. Not only did a group of girls spot them just as soon as they walked in the door, but for once Liam actually seemed to be the preferred object of attention from most of them. And despite being single, he still wasn’t having any of it.

“Lighten up, Li,” Niall chided, giving him a friendly nudge to the ribs with his elbow as they knocked back another round of drinks.

Liam just grunted in response.

“Zayn said you weren’t even that torn up about Sophia,” Niall continued, undeterred by Liam’s lack of participation in the conversation. “You might as well pull while you have the chance, yeah? Before you get tied down again.”

Niall said it like it was an inevitability, and maybe it was. Maybe Liam couldn’t cope with being alone and that’s why he’d fixated on Harry in Sophia’s place. Maybe that’s _all_ it was, he told himself, ignoring the part of his brain that immediately tried to point out evidence that his pre-occupation had existed prior to his and Sophia’s split. It was more comforting to pretend that his feelings for Harry were just a coping mechanism, something he could get over with enough time and distance. Someday the night they spent together would just be a distant memory he might be able to think on without regret.

Niall could only stand to babysit a morose Liam for so long before he got bored with trying to cheer him up. He excused himself to go dance with a handful of fit girls instead while Liam continued sulking at the bar. Louis quickly took his place, surprising Liam, who thought that maybe it was an attempt at peace-making before he looked up and realised that Louis was far drunker than the rest of them already despite the fact that they’d only been at the club for just over an hour.

“Maybe you should slow down,” Liam advised after watching Louis gulp down yet another shot.

Louis turned and glared. “Maybe you should shut the fuck up and mind your own business.” Now, Louis wasn’t the nicest guy in the world, and he was certainly more willing than most to speak his mind, but rarely did he get downright nasty.

Liam could tell that he was in the mood now to be vicious, which was all well and fine so long as Louis’s anger was directed at him. But they were in public, and Liam knew from experience that Louis was likely to make a scene if left to his own devices. He leaned back on his stool and started to covertly signal Michael over from the other side of the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis demanded just as the others started to approach.

Liam raised his hands in surrender. “We can finish drinking back at the hotel,” he said placatingly. “In the hot tub, right guys?” He looked to the other boys for help while Louis glared at him with pure hate in his eyes.

“Fuck you,” Louis spat out before banging his fist on the bar in search of another drink.

Apparently, playing nice wasn’t going to work this time.

Liam exchanged a loaded glance with Michael and Luke before standing up and grabbing Louis by the arm in one quick movement. Michael did the same with Louis’s other arm, and together the two of them hauled him back to the car, ignoring Louis’s spitting and hissing all the while, as though he were a disgruntled cat rather than a very drunk human being.

Louis quieted down once it was just him and Liam locked in the back of the car. Michael and Luke had gone back to retrieve the others so they could go back to the hotel, leaving Liam and Louis alone.

Louis seemed to be sobering up already. Or maybe his drunkenness had merely changed forms. Suddenly, he pitched forward, his face falling into his hands as his shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.

Liam carefully patted him on the back. “You all right?” he asked tentatively. He sort of felt like he was comforting a cobra that still had the potential to turn and strike him without any warning.

Louis shook his head. “I miss Harry,” he moaned, which was more honesty than Liam could have hoped to get out of him without the aid of alcohol.

“You haven’t lost Harry,” Liam reassured him, and it was true, even though it pained Liam to even say it. “It’s not too late.”

Louis didn’t respond. By the time the others made it back to the car, he was all but passed out in the backseat and the potential for having a heart-to-heart about Harry had passed.

Liam was faced with the arduous task of making everyone else promise not to say anything to Harry about Louis’s drunken outburst. Zayn in particular seemed suspicious of Liam’s motivations for doing so, but he agreed without protest, just like the others. Liam just didn’t want to endanger Louis’s chances of making amends with Harry in the future. He was worried that if their relationship didn’t improve—and soon—that Harry might start thinking about leaving the band for good. If she hadn’t already. Liam wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.

Louis was visibly hungover during breakfast late the next morning, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Liam watched carefully as Harry raised an eyebrow at Louis’s dishevelled appearance before turning her attention back to her eggs, a nonverbal declaration that whatever was going on with Louis was none of her business. Liam found himself disheartened by that somehow.

Everything was back to normal by the time they made it to the stadium. Everything, that is, except for the yellow nail varnish on Harry’s fingernails. The nail varnish that Liam put there.

Liam waited with bated breath for one of the others (Louis) to make a comment about it, especially now that they’d all been chewed out by Griffiths personally after the last incident, but none of them seemed to notice, and if they did, they chose to keep quiet about it.

Later, Liam found out that Harry had managed to sneak it past Lou by removing most of the varnish herself while keeping a single painted finger hidden. When he asked her after why she’d done it, Harry just shrugged and told him that Lou had told her before to tone it down. “So I toned it down,” she said, as though it were really that simple.

Their impending return to London continued to creep up on them, and with it came an increasing sense of dread. Harry needed to talk to Modest, and she needed to do it soon.

When Liam reminded her of as much, her face twisted into something deeply unpleasant for a moment before she carefully schooled her expression again. “Fine,” she said briskly. “I’ll have Ben set up a meeting.”

Liam received a text from Harry the next day with the date and time of her scheduled meeting with Modest. He was surprised by the invitation to join her, but he supposed it made sense. He had been the closest to all of this stuff since the beginning.

After Liam got home, he spent the next few days stewing in his own juices just waiting for the impending day of reckoning to arrive. He was thankful that Sophia wasn’t around to witness him being a nervous wreck over something that wasn’t even to do with him personally—but then again, if things went badly for Harry, it could very well affect the rest of them as well. But that wasn’t what Liam was worried about.

Liam drove himself to Modest’s offices the day of with sweaty hands slipping against the steering wheel. He was fairly certain he’d nearly gotten into two different accidents on the way there, and he wasn’t so confident that the same wouldn’t hold true on the drive back, particularly if the meeting ended up going poorly.

When Liam walked down the corridor that led to Magee’s office, both Ben and Harry were already sat right outside, waiting. Their heads turned to take him in as he walked forward, and both of their faces lit up with surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Harry demanded as Liam drew closer.

Liam stopped a few yards away and froze. “What do you mean? This is the right meeting, isn’t it?”

“What?” Harry replied, flabbergasted.

Ben just continued to stare at Liam in confusion.

Liam could feel his face burning. “You texted me,” he explained. “I thought you wanted me to come.”

Harry shook her head emphatically, and he could tell that she was blushing a bit now, too. “I just texted you the meeting confirmation so you would stop hassling me about it,” she hissed.

The air between them was thick with tension, enough that it almost felt like an argument. Ben seemed to sense that the discussion was quickly headed in that direction, because finally he stood up and stepped between them to intercede.

“Let’s settle down,” Ben suggested. “Liam, you’ll wait outside for us, and we’ll all grab lunch together after; sound good?”

Liam nodded dumbly and wished he had the guts to just walk straight back out of the building again. It would have felt less shameful, he thought, than waiting outside the office while Ben and Harry met with Griffiths and Magee, like he was a child not deemed old enough to take part in the adults’ conversation.

Liam’s head perked up when the door opened again to reveal Ben and Harry, who looked unusually drained after the conclusion of the meeting. It had taken far longer than Liam had accounted for. They’d been inside the office for nearly an hour and a half.

“Okay?” Liam checked as he stood to join them in their walk back to the lifts. He didn’t glance back to see if either Griffiths or Magee was present behind them.

Harry nodded and replied with a dopey smile. “Yeah,” she said, sounding surprisingly relieved. “Yeah, I think so.” She waited until they were safely in the lift before elaborating on the result of the meeting. “They want to go public with my…transition,” she said slowly, her eyes darting to Ben after nearly every word as though she still thought he might suddenly decide this was too much and turn on her. “But not till the end of the year.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “But the fans—”

“I know,” Harry replied. “But they don’t want it to affect the tour.”

Liam thought that it was already affecting the tour, and that it would only get worse the longer they left it unchecked, but apparently his opinion on the matter hadn’t warranted a seat at the table when they’d discussed Harry’s plans for coming out, so he bit his tongue and listened while Harry told him that management wanted another meeting with the whole band after they finished the rest of the tour to decide exactly how to proceed.

“Is that a good thing?” Liam wondered. It was all a lot more diplomatic than he’d expected, particularly given Griffiths’ reactions to things in the past that had been far less drastic. Maybe Ben’s presence had been even more mitigating than he’d anticipated.

Harry just shrugged.

They went to lunch at a secluded little Italian place. Ben got them a small table in the back of the restaurant, on a balcony that overlooked a courtyard where the restaurants’ other guests were sat eating around an ostentatious fountain sculpture of several naked people involved in what appeared to be some sort of orgy. Liam had to force himself to keep from commenting on the thing like a primary schooler who had never before seen a naked woman.

It was with a forkful of shellfish pasta in his mouth that Liam found out Harry’s main gripe with Modest’s plan.

“They want me to tell people I’m a woman now,” she complained with a dour look as she twirled her silverware through the angel hair pasta on her plate without ever picking any of it up to take a bite.

“If it’s between being out as a woman,” Ben replied before Liam had a chance to respond, “or being in hiding as a man, isn’t the first a better choice if you’d rather look like a woman anyway?”

Harry scowled at him. “I shouldn’t have to choose at all,” she muttered before finally stuffing her face with pasta.

“I just don’t know if the world is necessarily ready to understand all that,” Ben said.

Liam stayed silent. He wasn’t sure how to respond in a way that wouldn’t sound like he was trying to argue with Ben, and it wasn’t like agreeing with Harry would really change her situation for the better.

They went their separate ways after lunch without having resolved much of anything. Liam gave Harry a hug after Ben dropped him back off at Modest’s offices to get his car. He felt bereft after, like the hug had been too much—or maybe just not enough. Now that Liam knew what it was like to have more….

He quickly put those thoughts to rest. Thinking about what he’d done with Harry in Ben’s attic…. It would only lead to chaos and heartache. And Liam wasn’t anywhere near ready to face the repercussions of his actions just yet.

Liam didn’t see Harry again until the day of Jay’s wedding—to which he showed up alone, thereby confirming the all-but confirmed rumours that he and Sophia had indeed called it quits.

Harry arrived without a plus-one as well, which wasn’t all that surprising, but what was surprising was her outfit. Liam couldn’t help but gape a little at her as she walked across the lawn to greet the rest of them in tight pants and a shirt that nearly revealed everything she had to offer—while still somehow managing to make her look as flat-chested as she’d been pre-oestrogen.

Liam couldn’t help but comment on that fact as soon as the two of them were alone together.

Harry laughed. “Caroline showed me this mental taping thing,” she said under her breath as she gestured vaguely toward her armpits. “It completely hides my boobs.”

“It’s a shame,” Liam blurted out without thinking. “I miss them.”

Harry’s eyes met his with a heated gaze and for a second, Liam’s brain whited out. Then Louis walked up to both of them, shattering the moment’s fragile tension in one fell swoop.

“Thanks for coming,” Louis said in a soft voice. “Really, it means a lot to Mum.” He’d been playing the perfect host all afternoon, but this felt genuine, and Liam had to wonder if this was a peace offering of sorts.

Harry nodded with a smile. “Of course,” she replied. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

It only became clearer throughout the course of the event that whatever resentment Louis had been harbouring toward Harry while on tour had evidently dissipated in the days since they’d come home. Liam watched them from a nearby table as they danced together in front of everyone at the reception, his stomach feeling oddly hollow despite the copious amounts of cake he’d just consumed.

As things started to wind down, Louis and Harry only seemed to get closer and closer, until Liam could barely tell where one of them ended and the other began. Finally, he tore his eyes away and concentrated on downing the rest of the bottle of wine at his table instead.

Eventually Louis wandered over again, this time sans Harry. Liam quirked a questioning eyebrow as Louis sat down next to him.

“Harry went off to the loo,” Louis explained with a sigh, but it wasn’t a heavy one. On the contrary, Liam didn’t think he’d seen Louis look happier in months, since before Harry had dumped him even.

“You seem…close,” Liam observed. It didn’t feel like the right thing to say, but Louis didn’t seem to take offence at the comment.

Louis nodded as he reached over to steal Liam’s glass of wine. “We worked things out, I think,” he said. “But we’re going to take things slow, because of—you know.”

“Right.” Liam supposed that Louis being gay still complicated things a bit, but he didn’t feel any better for being right that Harry being Harry would be enough to overcome any of Louis’s misgivings about dating a girl. “Well, I’m happy for you.” The words tasted bitter on Liam’s tongue as he spoke them, and he knew they’d fallen flat purely from the pinched expression on Louis’s face in response.

“You’re okay with us getting back together, right?” Louis inquired quietly. “I mean, Harry didn’t say anything about—but I know you and her must have—”

“It’s fine,” Liam said quickly. “I wanted her to take you back. Really. We weren’t—” He downed more wine just to cut himself off before he could accidentally admit to something really stupid, like the fact that he’d slept with Harry more than a month ago and then hadn’t spoken to her about it once since. “Congratulations to the happy couple,” Liam joked with a feigned smile.

He knew the grimace behind it must’ve been painfully obvious, but thankfully, Louis chose to ignore it.

Liam left the party early, not sure he could take much more of Louis and Harry acting like newlyweds in public. And at someone else’s wedding, no less. Liam couldn’t stand to be the only person there who begrudged them their happiness (even though he knew his bitterness wasn’t something conscious). Everyone else seemed to be over the moon that Louis and Harry had finally kissed and made up, and the stifling atmosphere of cheer only sufficed to make Liam feel worse.

It was a couple days on that Liam got the call.

He was on the treadmill when he saw his phone light up, and he nearly faceplanted when he spotted Nick’s name on the caller ID. He considered not answering, letting it go to voicemail instead, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Hello?” Liam said tentatively, slowing to a brisk walk.

“Heard through the grapevine that our favourite celeb couple are back together,” Nick said. The way he phrased it made it sound sort of like a joke, but the tone was all off for some reason.

“You mean Louis and Harry?” Liam clarified.

“They’d be the ones, yeah,” Nick confirmed. “You know about this, then?” His tone was still sharp, and Liam was suddenly worried that he’d done something wrong.

“Yes…?” he replied uncertainly.

“Hmm,” Nick murmured. “Meet me tonight for drinks? Bring Louis with you.”

“Wait, what?”

“Sorry, but attendance is mandatory, young Liam. See you tonight. Ta-ta for now!”

Nick hung up without giving Liam a chance to protest. He dropped the phone from his ear, staring at the screen incredulously for a few seconds before collecting himself again. It was nearly half an hour before he managed to talk himself into calling Louis, only to find that Nick had indeed gotten to him first and given him more or less the same message.

“And you agreed?” Liam asked, shocked at the prospect.

“He said if I didn’t show that he’d tweet something flirty to stir up the fans,” Louis grumbled in reply. “At least this way I might get a free pint out of it.”

Liam was tempted to remind Louis that he wasn’t a working-class kid from Doncaster who needed someone to buy him drinks anymore, but he thought better of it in the end, and they arranged to carpool to the club where Nick wanted to meet.

And it was a club—not a cosy pub like Louis had probably hoped. Louis surveyed the whole place with thinly-veiled distaste as they entered, though Liam thought privately that it was exactly the sort of joint Louis would frequent on his own time if he weren’t in danger of the tabs making something saucy out of it.

Liam, in contrast, glanced around at the half-naked men and women grinding on any available surface in undisguised curiosity. He’d never been to a gay club before. Not like this one, anyway. He could sort of see the appeal, even if most of what was on offer wasn’t quite what he was looking for.

Nick was waiting to meet them in the VIP lounge upstairs. He was sat in a private room with a glass window overlooking the main stage below, through which he was surveying some sort of cirque show being put on by at least six different men who were somehow all occupying the same physical space, it seemed.

Nick tore his eyes away as Louis and Liam entered, but Liam’s gaze lingered on the display happening through the window even as Nick stood up to greet them.

“No small talk,” Nick announced as they sat down around the table. “I’d rather get right down to business.”

“What do you want?” Louis asked bluntly.

“For you,” Nick replied with a finger jabbed straight at Louis’s face, “to think long and hard about how you feel before you break Harry’s heart again.”

Louis stared at him, slack-jawed and speechless for several seconds. “Me?” he said. “Me break _Harry’s_ heart? Think you’ve got your particulars a bit muddled there. Harry’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Because I told her to,” Nick said smugly.

Louis scowled. “Yeah, and you’re lucky I’ve decided not to clock you straight in the face for that,” he said seriously.

“Wait,” Liam interrupted. He still wasn’t sure why Nick had even asked him here, but since he’d showed, he figured he might as well clear things up in the process. “You know Harry’s not like, properly a woman, right?”

Nick bristled. “I’d expected better from you,” he said icily before opening his mouth to launch into what was bound to be an extended lecture on respecting transgender people, or the like.

But that’s not what Liam meant. “No,” he protested, cutting Nick off before he could really get going. “I mean Harry literally doesn’t want to be a woman. She’s like both. Or in between. I still don’t really understand it, honestly, but it’s not like—she’s still a boy, you know, but only a bit?” Liam didn’t feel like he’d done a great job of explaining things, and judging from the twin expressions of confusion on Louis and Nick’s faces, he was right, but it was a start at least.

“Ah,” Nick finally said in response. “Well, that’s not exactly what she told me.”

“What did she tell you?” Louis challenged.

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Enough,” he replied. “Or well, I thought so, anyway. Honestly, I didn’t catch onto it right off; it took me a few months before I even realised.”

“A few months?” Liam interrupted.

Nick turned to him with a resignedly patient expression. “Yes, Liam. A few months after we met, I started to realise maybe not all was well with Harry’s assigned gender identity. So I had her do a bit of reading on the side, and when she eventually started to lean toward the feminine end of the spectrum, I thought—”

“That Louis wouldn’t want her anymore,” Liam summarised.

Nick glanced over at Louis, who was visibly seething. “Well, yes,” he said. “I didn’t realise it was more complicated than all that, and that was my mistake, I suppose.”

“You think?” Louis replied tightly.

Nick ignored him. He stared intently at Liam instead, who felt a bit like prey under the eyes of a hawk as Nick continued to scrutinise him. “Interesting,” Nick murmured to himself. “Very interesting….”

“What is?” Louis demanded.

“Well,” Nick replied, “you’re gay, right? And Liam here is straight. But yet you both have feelings for dear Harriet.” He seemed delighted by this realisation, but Liam failed to see just what was so exciting about it.

“And?” Louis said flatly.

“Maybe you should consider whether how you identify yourself is really that important to you,” Nick said as he perched his chin on his hands. “I assume you’re not conditionally attracted to Harry, right? I mean, Louis, you’re not only attracted to Harry when she’s wearing track shorts and a baseball cap, right? And Liam, you’re not only into her when she’s in a skirt?”

Liam wasn’t sure what Harry’s clothes had to do with anything, seeing as how his attraction to Sophia hadn’t been dependent on whether she was wearing a dress or not either, but he just nodded along anyway for the sake of furthering the conversation.

“So then maybe,” Nick continued with a smarmy grin, “you both just identify with being straight or gay because it’s easier to not think about any other possibilities.”

Louis looked monumentally unimpressed by Nick’s analysis. “I’ve thought about other possibilities plenty, Grimshaw. I’m not into birds.”

“You’re not into birds except Harry,” Nick replied like it was a ‘gotcha’, “who’s sometimes a bird. Or always a bird and sometimes a bloke?” He looked to Liam for help, but all Liam could do was shrug. “I’m still not really grasping the fine details, but in any case, it doesn’t matter that much because my point remains the same.”

Louis rolled his eyes and slouched back a bit more in his chair. “Really,” he challenged. “So you’d just stop being gay if you were in my place instead?”

“Well for one,” Nick corrected, “I wouldn’t be in your place, as Harry and I have never been romantically or sexually involved, thank you very much.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I might be willing,” he said slowly, “under the right circumstances, to make an exception for our little Harriet. Maybe. But it is a rather unique situation all around.”

“Then why does it matter?” Liam asked, piping up unexpectedly. Both Louis and Nick turned to look at him again. “I mean, what does it matter what we call ourselves if Harry’s not bothered by it?”

Nick seemed at a loss. “I suppose it doesn’t,” he finally replied. “Just so long as neither of you are intending on trying to convince Harry that she’s something she’s not.”

Liam stared back at him with an icy expression. “So far the only person who’s tried to do that,” he said, “is you, Nick.”


	9. August

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

It was clear from the onset of the North American leg that both Harry and Louis were much happier, both with each other and everyone else as a result. Liam would have liked to say that it was infectious, except that in his case, it was only in the sense that being near them made him feel physically ill.

And in addition to Liam’s less than rational personal resentments was the overbearing fear that everything might suddenly come crashing down again. Liam found himself watching them both anytime they were in the same room together, convincing himself it was in all their best interests that he kept an eye on them in case something happened—another fight, another break-up.

Harry didn’t seem to share Liam’s misgivings. She was glowing when she suddenly showed up at Liam’s door between shows to invite him to Louis’s room to play Mario Kart with them.

Liam, despite knowing he would only regret doing so, agreed.

He followed her down the hallway while examining Harry’s outfit with some scepticism. She was wearing an oversized bathrobe with a snapback to hold back her hair for some reason. It was an odd ensemble, one that didn’t feel very much like Harry at all, and he wondered if she’d just woken up and decided to just forego wearing any clothes like it was 2011 again.

It wasn’t until they walked into Louis’s room—where he was already lying facedown on the bed with a controller in his hand—that Harry shed her bathrobe, revealing the reason for her odd wardrobe decision. She was dressed in what were very obviously girls’ athletic shorts with a thin t-shirt on top, the fabric flimsy enough that her breasts were plainly visible.

Liam averted his eyes quickly only to find that Louis had done the same, his mouth drawn into a taut line as he stared down at the controller.

Louis’s posture was tense as he waited for Harry to settle in on the bed next to him before scooting away from her to retrieve a third controller for Liam to take. His body language radiated discomfort, and that only made Liam feel even more apprehensive about hanging out with the two of them, because he couldn’t help but assume that his presence was the cause.

Liam stared at the available space on the bed now that Louis had moved from the middle to the other side, leaving a gap between himself and Harry. Liam wondered if he was meant to have Harry scoot over toward the middle, or—

Eventually, he slotted himself between the two of them, hoping it would help diffuse the stifling atmosphere that had descended the second Harry stripped off her dressing gown. It didn’t have quite the desired effect.

Harry just seemed to get closer and closer to Liam with each race, until she was practically in his lap, acting for all the world like her boyfriend wasn’t sat right there watching the whole thing.

Liam felt paralysed, unsure of how to signal to her that she should back off without drawing even more attention to her actions from Louis. Was that Harry’s plan after all? Was she trying to make Louis jealous? It didn’t make any sense, Liam told himself. They’d already gotten back together. What could Harry possibly gain from driving a potential wedge between them again?

Liam played poorly, even in comparison to his usual placements, which had never been anything to be proud of. The sweat coating his palms and slicking the controller in his hands didn’t help matters any. He had to choke back a sigh of relief when Harry finally announced that she was bored of racing and wanted to watch a movie instead.

Liam left it to Harry and Louis to decide what film to watch. Louis picked the first of Harry’s three choices and laid down against the headboard with a world-weary expression. Liam watched him carefully from out of the corner of his eye while Harry perched on the edge of the bed, navigating the menus on the hotel telly as she tried to play whatever film they’d chosen. Liam had already forgotten the name of it.

There was something peculiar about the way Louis was looking at Harry, something noticeably different than the way he’d looked at her before. Liam felt unsettled by the change, even though he wasn’t sure exactly what had caused it. He had his suspicions, though.

Liam was pretty sure he spent more time watching Louis than the film itself, and that didn’t change until Louis finally fell asleep somewhere around the halfway mark, finally giving Liam a chance to catch his breath again.

Harry caught his eye when Liam turned his head back toward the telly for the first time in at least ten whole minutes. She lifted a questioning eyebrow.

Liam shrugged in answer and slung her legs into his lap. He felt comfortable enough pulling her closer now that Louis wasn’t awake to see it. “Does the hair bother you?” Liam wondered as he absently petted over her calves and thighs, still less hairy than his own despite being covered in a healthy amount of soft fuzz.

Harry, who was only half paying attention to the film now, turned her head to look at Liam again. “No,” she replied quietly. “Not really.” She glanced toward Louis for a brief second before re-connecting her gaze with Liam’s again. “It might if I was getting laid,” she said, “but….”

Liam’s hand stilled. “Well, Louis did say he wanted to take things slow,” he pointed out. There was a tightness in his chest all of a sudden that made it hard to breathe, and he wasn’t sure yet as to its cause. Whatever the reason, it only got worse the longer Harry stared at him without speaking—or even blinking.

Finally, Harry turned away again. “Yeah,” she said quickly. “You’re right.” There was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been present before.

Liam was too afraid to ask what was actually bothering her, so he resumed stroking over her legs as they watched the movie—Harry more so than Liam, still—and when Harry abruptly changed the subject a few minutes later, Liam didn’t kick up a fuss.

“I’ve been researching some stuff,” Harry said in a low tone, quiet enough that Louis didn’t stir even though the audio track on the film was practically silent now.

Liam nodded for her to continue.

“I think I want to come out as genderfluid,” she announced all in one breath, her legs tensing up a bit under Liam’s hands as she spoke. “When we go public with it.”

“Erm,” Liam said, frowning, “so what exactly does that mean?”

Harry gave a soft sigh and stared back at Liam with a long-suffering expression as she explained. “I talked to Cara about like, being sexually fluid? So maybe one day you’re more into girls and the next you just like boys, right? And apparently, the same thing can happen with gender, too. Like today I’m mostly a girl, but tomorrow I could be a boy. Or neither.”

“Oh,” Liam replied. He glanced down at where her nipples were visible through her shirt and swallowed hard. “But what about—” He gestured vaguely at his own chest.

Harry’s eyes flicked down to her breasts and then up to meet Liam’s again with a weary look of scepticism. “I can be a boy who wants boobs, Liam. And even when I’m a boy, I still feel more feminine than not.”

Liam held up his hands in surrender before placing them back down over Harry’s legs once more. “Okay, okay. I’m just still a bit confused by it all.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I get that. Sorry, I’m just—”

Liam shook his head and pulled her a little bit closer, till she was almost sat entirely in his lap. “You’re fine,” he told her. “I want to understand, really. I want to try.”

“Okay.” Harry sucked in a deep breath. “Right, well, I think after I’m out I’m going to start going by all pronouns?” She phrased it like a question, like she was looking for reassurance that what she wanted was even permitted.

Liam was the wrong person to ask for that, in his opinion. “All pronouns?” he repeated uncertainly.

“Yeah, um, like he, she, they?”

Liam’s mouth started to form around the word ‘they’, but Harry beat him to it.

“They, like, if you didn’t know someone’s gender,” she explained. “Or if they didn’t have one?”

“Oh. Okay.” Liam considered that for a moment. “Do you want me to use different ones, then?”

Harry was quick to shake her head, a few flyaways coming loose from her hat in the process. “I like when you use she,” she said with a soft smile. “I might be Louis’s boy, but I’m your good girl now, right?”

She’d clearly meant it as a joke, but it didn’t feel like one to Liam, who was struggling to catch his breath again as he forced a nod and a smile in response.

But Liam could only endure the creeping sense of claustrophobia that just seemed to worsen the closer Harry got for so long. “I should probably go back to my room,” he told her as the credits finally started to roll on the film Liam hadn’t paid one iota of attention to the entire time it had been playing. “My sleep schedule’s still a bit wonky after…yeah.”

Liam started to push Harry off him then, already feeling the pressure of her wounded gaze as he rambled through his flimsy excuses for why he couldn’t stand to be around her anymore. As Liam climbed out of bed, Louis started to stir before waking up with a sudden jolt. His eyes met Liam’s for what felt like a millisecond, and then he was reaching forward, winding his arms around Harry’s waist and pulling her back into his chest for a cuddle.

Seeing Harry curl up instinctively on Louis’s lap with a sleepy smile just made Liam feel even worse. He needed to get out of there, before he said—or did—something he wouldn’t be able to take back.

Liam fled without bothering to make an excuse for Louis and without properly saying goodbye to Harry. He kept his distance for most of the next day until he had no choice but to enter her presence again just before soundcheck.

Harry pulled him aside a few minutes before they were due to head onstage, her face taut with worry. “Everything’s all right, isn’t it?” she asked. “Between us?”

“Yeah, of course,” Liam lied, feeling his stomach twisting unpleasantly with guilt even as he did so. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Harry took a quick step back. Her expression was more guarded when she opened her mouth to reply. “It just seems like you’ve been avoiding me lately,” she said in a small voice. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t because of—”

Liam cut her off before she could finish the thought. “I just don’t want to get in the way of you and Louis,” he replied hastily.

Harry’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why would—” she started to say, only to be interrupted by a quiet hiss of pain unexpectedly escaping her own lips as she pressed the palms of both hands to her temples.

“Harry?” Liam questioned anxiously, his arms already outstretched toward her even though he wasn’t sure there was any way he could even help. “You all right?”

Harry shook her head tightly. Her whole face was screwed up into a mask of pain, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth drawn tight in a grimace.

Liam carefully placed his hands on her shoulders and started to steer her away from the stage, over to where he knew a medical station had been set up just in case of an emergency. Liam was pretty sure whatever was wrong with Harry now qualified as such.

After Harry had been dosed up with painkillers and given some time to rest while Liam left her side only to go do soundcheck with the others, he learned that she’d been having semi-frequent migraines ever since changing from patch to injectable oestrogen, and that the headaches had only been getting worse as time went on.

Liam couldn’t stop himself from analysing Louis’s pinched expression as Harry explained the situation to them both while she reclined on one of the cots with a damp flannel draped over the top half of her face. Louis’s apparent discomfort with everything pertaining to Harry’s gender had Liam worried that maybe helping them get back together had been a mistake after all. Not that there was anything he could do about it now.

“Is there something else you can take to help?” Liam wondered. Harry obviously couldn’t rely on a steady supply of pain medication to get her through the rest of tour, let alone afterward, but surely there was something out there that would prevent the headaches from affecting her as much.

Harry shook her head.

“Maybe you should go off the oestrogen until we get home,” Louis suggested unhelpfully.

Liam could hold back the glare he shot at the other boy in response.

Harry, oblivious to this interaction, replied to Louis in a pained voice. “I think I’ll just try to get a lower dose when we’re in DC,” she told them before letting out a soft grunt of annoyance. “Can someone get that light? It’s killing me.”

The only source of light in question was the small strip of sunlight streaming in from the opening in the tent flap, so faint that Liam had to wonder how Harry could even tell it was there with a flannel covering her eyes. Still, he and Louis both immediately scrambled to their feet before helping each other to secure the flap at the bottom.

“Better?” Louis asked as they sat back down again.

“Yeah,” Harry replied with a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay to perform?” Liam wondered.

“They never last very long,” Harry assured him. “Even the really bad ones.”

Louis and Liam’s hard work was undone less than a minute later when Zayn, Niall, and all the rest of the boys burst through the tent flap with a cacophony of worried voices that had Harry clutching frantically at her sensitive ears before Louis managed to reign them in. Liam took their entrance as his cue to leave and slipped out without so much as a goodbye to any of the others, let alone Harry. He fled to a quiet spot backstage and began the process of composing himself in preparation for the start of the show in isolation, absently wishing there was some way he could go back to the peaceful obliviousness he’d spent their previous tours luxuriating in.

Liam pretended not to notice Harry’s eyes following him throughout their performance afterward, instead channelling the majority of his nervous energy into goofing off even more so than usual, to the point where Paul ended up taking him aside after the conclusion of the show to give him a lecture about his lack of focus. Liam made the appropriate apologies and headed straight for the hotel, narrowly managing to avoid the rest of the band in the process of getting from his dressing room to the car waiting outside the venue.

Liam took a quick shower once he returned to his room and then collapsed on top of the bed, utterly exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally as well. The strain of trying to keep his distance from Harry was starting to take an unexpected toll.

Lying in bed for nearly an hour with sleep nowhere in sight didn’t make Liam feel any better. Eventually, he rolled over and picked up his phone, checking the time before deciding that it was late enough on the East Coast that he could get away with making a phone call.

Sophia almost didn’t answer. When she did, her voice was subdued, still a bit sleepy.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Liam wondered. Usually she was up early. He hadn’t expected her to still be in bed.

“No,” she replied through a yawn, which didn’t do much to assuage Liam’s fears that she was just lying to appease him. “Was just having a bit of a lie-in is all. What’s wrong?”

Liam wanted to argue with her assumption that something had to be wrong for him to call her, but technically, she was right. “It’s Harry,” he admitted. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but she and Louis were together for a while, and then they broke up, but then I got them back together again, I guess?”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” Sophia cut in.

“It’s not,” Liam told her. “But I still feel miserable about it.”

“Oh,” Sophia said quietly. “Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Why—” Sophia cleared her throat before continuing. “Why exactly did you help them get back together, then?” she asked. “I mean, if you had feelings for Harry….”

“I don’t know,” Liam confessed. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.” That wasn’t all of it, not by a long shot, but he didn’t know how to put the rest into words. He sighed and rolled over onto his other side, trying in vain to find a comfortable spot on the too-soft mattress as he waited for Sophia’s response.

“Is Harry…happy with Louis?” she finally asked.

“Of course,” Liam replied automatically. He had no way of knowing for sure that was true, but she seemed happy enough with him. She’d certainly been unhappier when they were apart.

“Do you know how Harry feels about you?” Sophia continued tentatively.

Liam hesitated before replying, his mind frozen in a flashback to Harry in Ben Winston’s attic, her hand wrapped around his cock. “We had sex,” he blurted out unexpectedly, surprising even himself with the admission.

Sophia was silent for several seconds. “Sorry, you what?”

“It wasn’t—she gave me a handjob,” Liam hastily clarified, his face burning ever hotter with each word out of his mouth. “It kind of took me by surprise? I didn’t know what to do after, really.”

“Well,” Sophia said in a carefully measured tone, “tour’s nearly over, right? You could always come home and find a nice girl—or boy—to rebound with once you’re back.”

“But not with you,” Liam noted drily.

Sophia just laughed. “Sorry, hon, but no. I think that ship’s sailed for the both of us. And as riveting as this conversation has been, I actually do have to get out of bed now. Call-time’s at noon, so.”

“Right, yeah. Well. Thanks anyway.”

“Good luck, Li.”

After hanging up, Liam rolled flat on his back again and took a brief moment to reflect on how fucked up the whole situation was. Never did he expect to be calling his ex-girlfriend for advice about sleeping with one of his bandmates, never mind the whole love triangle mess and everything involved with Harry’s transition.

Liam sighed and threw a hand over his eyes. Worrying wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Finally, he got up, popped a sleeping pill, and crawled under the covers to take a well-deserved break from thinking for the next several hours.

The next week went by relatively smoothly compared to the last. Harry had given up on cornering Liam for confrontations about the nature of their friendship, it seemed, and Liam had taken to convincing himself that he was grateful for the reprieve, even if he didn’t really believe it.

Then things took a turn for the worse with the Ice Bucket Challenge.

Liam was the last to find out about it somehow. He was minding his own business, eating lunch in his hotel room while he worked a bit on a new song he’d had a few ideas for, when suddenly there was a loud, frantic knock at the door.

Liam looked forlornly down at his barbecue, knowing that he likely wouldn’t have a chance to finish it before it went cold now, before wiping his hands on a napkin and getting up to answer.

He hadn’t expected to find Louis on the other side, but that was who was waiting for him, wide-eyed and panicked as he pushed past Liam to get inside the room. “We have a problem,” Louis said quickly, and it took everything in Liam’s power to keep from making a joke about the fact that their Houston show was already over and done with.

“Okay?” Liam questioned. He decided to sit back down in front of his food while Louis stumbled through his explanation. Depriving himself wasn’t going to fix whatever problem they already had.

“You know Harry’s ice bucket video?”

Liam nodded and chomped through another mouthful of brisket.

“Okay, well, he didn’t exactly vet it before it was uploaded,” Louis explained, half-pacing the room as he did so. “And the fans being what they are—”

“Are you going to tell me what happened or not?” Liam demanded.

Louis stopped short with an affronted expression. “You can see—” He gestured toward his own torso. “Tits, Liam. Tits.”

Liam paused with a hunk of bread frozen midway to his mouth. That was a problem.

It was less than six hours before they were called in for a virtual meeting with their publicist at ten PM sharp to discuss whether the timeline for Harry’s coming out should be accelerated to accommodate for the ice bucket incident.

Harry was adamant that nothing needed to change. “Let them stew a little,” she declared irritably. “What’s one more fan conspiracy?”

Their publicist, in the end, reluctantly agreed with her assessment and assured them that they would do whatever damage control they reasonably could without drawing even more attention to things—namely, keeping the fan theories out of the mainstream entertainment outlets. Harry seemed confident the abrupt interest in her changing body would die down once there was something new to talk about instead; Liam wasn’t convinced.

He knew when to hold his tongue, though, and he could tell that Harry wasn’t in the mood to tolerate any sort of argument. Liam watched her go once the meeting was through, only moving to hold Louis back when he got up to do the same.

“What?” Louis asked.

“Don’t you think we should say something to Niall and Zayn?” Liam pointed out. “They’ve known something’s been going on for a while now.”

Louis shrugged. “If Harry wants to tell them, she will.”

“You don’t think they’ll react badly?” It was one of Liam’s more present worries.

Louis scoffed and took another step toward the door. “Neither of them had a problem with me being gay,” he replied.

Liam’s mouth dropped open. “How come they knew and I didn’t?” he demanded.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Because you’re blind, Liam,” he said before walking out of the room to chase after Harry.

Liam lasted less than a day before taking a peek at the fan theories in response to Harry’s video. He was surprised and relieved to find out that most people still seemed to be resistant to the fringier (although correct) postulations that Harry was on HRT; the majority of the fans seemed to think that Harry had a kink for breast pumping or something. A lot of them just seemed confused. By the end of the week, it all seemed to have blown over, and Liam finally felt like he could breathe again.

Which is of course when Harry decided to stir the pot in St Louis.

This time, Liam found out what she was doing right off the bat, when one of the other boys remarked on her jersey with a detectable note of confusion that had Liam pulling out his phone to figure out whose number she was even wearing.

When he realised it was the first openly gay NFL player, the dots connected fairly rapidly after that. And Liam had no doubt the fans would make the exact same connection.

Liam found himself alone with Harry in the green room between soundcheck and the start of the show. This time, he didn’t run off with some poorly-crafted excuse for why they couldn’t be alone together. His curiosity had won out.

“You said you’re not gay,” Liam said out of nowhere, jolting Harry out of reading the book that was propped up in her lap.

She glanced up in obvious confusion. “What?”

“Before,” Liam explained, “when you—you said you weren’t gay.”

It was a few seconds before Harry realised what he was referring to. “Oh,” she replied. “I guess I really don’t know what I am.” She didn’t seem troubled by that fact, however.

Liam pulled his feet up onto the sofa, unconsciously making his bent knees into a shield of sorts. “But you’re wearing a gay bloke’s jersey,” he pointed out.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. “And?”

“I was just wondering,” Liam replied defensively. He forced himself out of his makeshift foetal position and folded his arms over his chest instead as he dug his toes into the rug and waited for her response.

Harry sighed and shook her head, finally closing her book after realising that Liam wasn’t planning to allow her to have a moment of peace until she’d given him a satisfactory explanation for her actions.

“I’ve liked girls and boys and I don’t feel like I have to put a name to that,” she said firmly. “But coming to terms with liking boys was always harder for me, even with the way I see myself, so I guess I just feel like…we have a connection, you know? Like he’s had to hide himself for so long for the sake of his career, and so have I.” Harry looked down at her book again for a few seconds before flicking her eyes up to meet Liam’s gaze again. “Besides, I usually like boys more than girls, anyway.”

“Why?” Liam replied dumbly.

Harry glanced pointedly down at his crotch before looking up at him again with a smirk. Liam went bright red and hurriedly pulled out his phone to avoid any further discussion on the matter.

After the show, the fans reacted about how Liam expected, but Harry didn’t seem the least bit troubled by their speculation. For once, Modest didn’t so much as field a single word of criticism in her direction. Liam couldn’t help but wonder if things were actually changing for the better after all.

The day after their show in St Louis, Liam spent most of the day shopping in Chicago with his parents after being treated to a catered lunch in one of the conference rooms courtesy of Paul and the crew. Louis and Harry were noticeably absent, but Liam found that he was content with that. Liam had managed to rid himself of any expectations about his birthday since his more traumatic teenage years. He’d take whatever he could get.

It was nice, overall, and Liam was in a good mood the next day—on his actual birthday—during the show. There were a few signs in the crowd, and Liam was distracted with the arduous task of trying to read some of the birthday messages when Harry suddenly started to ask the audience if anyone had a birthday. Liam perked up, his throat going tight, and the tension didn’t ease until Harry finally said his name, at which point he erupted with relieved laughter, inexplicably grateful that Harry hadn’t forgotten him after all.

He could barely hold back a tide of joyful tears pricking behind his eyes as Harry and the others sang to him. He was twenty-one years old, and maybe he shouldn’t have cared so much, but his lonely childhood had left a mark on him, and Harry knew that. She knew it was important.

“Sixty-five thousand people at a birthday party,” she remarked gleefully as she skipped by Liam on her way to the upper portion of the stage. “Try and beat that!”

Liam turned to watch her go, enraptured by the sight of her breaking into a little dance as the first few chords of the next song sounded before remembering that he was still onstage in front of thousands of people and that they still had the rest of the show to get through.

Zayn was the one to corral Liam into joining the rest of them in the car back to the hotel once they were finished, and Liam couldn’t bring himself to refuse even though he had the excuse of needing to join his parents if he wanted to do so.

Liam avoided Harry’s eyes on the way back and was so focussed on doing so that he didn’t even realise what was happening when they first walked out of the lifts to find everyone from the band and crew waiting in the corridor with party hats on and a chorus of ‘happy birthday’s on their lips.

Liam froze, so surprised by the ambush that it took him a good ten seconds to remember that he was meant to at least look like he was happy about it. And he was. It was more than he could have ever expected, and when Louis inevitably pushed Liam’s head into his own birthday cake, he could only laugh about it.

Liam was still buzzing even after the festivities came to their end when he excused himself to go clean the cake from his face in his hotel room. He was in the shower when he heard the knock at his door. Liam rinsed off as best he could before quickly climbing out and wrapping a towel around his waist to answer it.

It was Harry. She didn’t bother to hide the way her eyes raked over Liam’s dripping wet (and still very naked) body when he opened the door, but Liam forced himself not to react.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as she walked into his room without a word.

Harry didn’t answer. She pushed him back against the closed door and brought their faces together, so close she could have kissed him if she wanted to. But she didn’t.

Instead, she dropped to her knees right there in the entryway to Liam’s room and reached up to pull at the towel around his waist, dropping it to the floor before Liam had a chance to react.

He stared down at her in stunned silence as she worked him quickly to full hardness before swallowing him down in one practised movement. Liam let out a quiet gasp at the feeling of her mouth around him, and one of his hands came up automatically to grab at her hair.

Harry hummed and kept going, not stopping until her nose was pressed up against Liam’s pubes.

Liam couldn’t breathe, and he definitely couldn’t speak. He didn’t even know if he wanted this, but he also definitely didn’t _not_ want it, and the confusion was driving him even crazier than the feeling of having his cock halfway down Harry’s throat.

He didn’t move much as she sucked him off, too afraid that he’d do something wrong and hurt her. All of Liam’s past girlfriends had treated blowjobs like a chore, but Harry was practically gagging herself on his dick like there was nothing in the world she wanted to do more.

Liam came in an abysmally short amount of time, with barely a warning given before Harry glanced up at him as she took him down to the base again and swallowed hard, taking everything he had to give her.

When she was finished, she pulled off slowly, leaving Liam a shivering wreck against the door. “Happy birthday,” she said in a rough voice as she stood up, wiping at her swollen lips.

Liam just stared at her as she walked into the bathroom. He didn’t move until the sound of the faucet turning on jerked him out of his reverie, at which point he finally walked in with his towel held over his junk to find Harry brushing her teeth with his toothbrush. Liam was still too shocked by what had just happened to be disgusted by that, but he was sure he’d find the energy for it later.

“Does Louis know you’re here?” Liam asked. It was the first question that came to mind, even if it didn’t really feel like the right one.

Harry nodded absently, her mouth overflowing with toothpaste foam. “Yeah,” she said in a voice muffled by the toothbrush. “He said to tell you he’s sorry about the cake thing.”

Liam just blinked at her. He couldn’t think of an adequate response to that, or to the blowjob itself, so he just stared as she finished up in the sink before walking past him and exiting his hotel room without uttering another word.

Liam couldn’t look Harry in the eye the next night. How was he supposed to move on now?


	10. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Liam took an early flight back to London on the morning of the first. He was the only one of the band to do so.

Zayn had gone god only knew where. He was prone to disappearing without warning, so no one had even bothered to figure it out. He’d be back before the next show, and that was all that mattered.

Niall had decided to take a road trip to California of all things with Josh and Sandy. There were bets going already on how far they’d make it before giving up and trading in their rental for a plane ticket.

Liam had chosen to abstain from the gambling so as not to shake Niall’s confidence, but he didn’t think they’d last more than two days.

Louis and Harry hadn’t publicised their plans to anyone, but Liam was willing to bet that they’d head to LA well in advance of the show, and as far as Liam was concerned: good riddance. Things had been tense enough on the day of their second show in Chicago. Liam wasn’t even sure a week’s break was enough time to recover from what had happened on his birthday, but it was better than having to look at Harry’s face every day like he had been for the past month.

Liam headed back to Wolves with his parents straight from Heathrow after they landed. It probably should have been a bit concerning that his method of avoidance was more often than not to flee to his childhood home so he could escape the perils of adulthood, but he was the baby of the family. He’d been conditioned to seek coddling where and when he could get it, even if he was just as liable to dole out some of the coddling himself if someone else (Harry) needed it.

For now, Liam allowed himself to be fussed over by his mum and dad while he whiled half the break at home before finally picking himself back up again and making the drive to London.

But truthfully, Liam wasn’t leaving his parents’ place this early of his own volition. Sophia had contacted him out of the blue the day before, asking to have lunch, and Liam hadn’t wanted to go through the trouble of turning her down. He agreed on a place to meet and headed out in the morning, making the long drive straight to the restaurant without allowing much time for unforeseen variables—like the ever-typical London traffic.

Paused at a standstill in an endless queue of cars, Liam shot Sophia a quick text to let her know he’d be late. And then he tucked his phone back into his pocket and resumed worrying. She’d assured him beforehand that all she wanted to do was talk in person about announcing their break up, but Liam wasn’t so convinced, particularly after the last conversation they’d had together over the phone.

Liam arrived at the restaurant a staggering thirty minutes late for their meeting to find Sophia already halfway through a bottle of wine and just starting her lunch. He sat down across from her quickly and opened his mouth to offer an apology, only for Sophia to slide the wine over to his side of the table with a pointed look.

“You look like you could use a drink,” she said.

Liam nodded and poured himself a glass. He couldn’t overindulge thanks to needing to drive himself back to his flat after they were finished, but a glass before his meal wouldn’t hurt.

“So how’s…things?” Liam asked inelegantly as he waited for a server to come by so he could order.

Sophia laughed. “Fine,” she told him. “Been working a lot, but that’s good. Doing more travelling now, which is always nice.”

Liam nodded. “And you said you wanted to—”

“Yeah,” Sophia replied brightly. “Yeah, actually, someone I know from work asked me out, so I wanted to clear things up for the public just so it doesn’t get messy.”

“Oh.” Liam half-expected to feel some sort of residual emotion at learning that Sophia was concretely moving on from him to someone else, but just like when she’d first told him they should take a break, there was nothing. “Okay, yeah. That’s probably a good idea. Do you want to…?” He slid his phone over to her so she could compose the statement. She was better with words, and well, it would be more readable in the end if she typed it.

Liam watched her face carefully as she typed out a draft of the tweet she wanted him to send.

“Look all right?” she asked, passing the phone back to him.

Liam looked it over. _Sophia and I have decided to go our separate ways. We remain close friends and ask that you respect our privacy regarding this matter as we move forward in our lives._ He glanced up again to meet Sophia’s questioning gaze.

“Too formal?” she wondered.

Liam shook his head. “Nah. It’s good. I could probably do with a bit more professionalism or whatnot.” His thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button. “Should I wait?” he asked.

“No, you can send it.” Sophia was already pulling her phone out as well. “I’ll do mine, too.”

It didn’t take long after the tweets were sent for both of their phones to blow up. Liam’s a little less so than Sophia’s, but still, their tweets had clearly had the opposite effect of what they’d intended.

“Well,” Sophia observed as she watched her phone light up with notification after notification, “looks like we solved one problem and created another.”

“This one’s easier to fix,” Liam said as he pointedly turned off his phone. “See? Problem solved.”

Sophia shook her head and followed suit, laughing. “I wonder if they all think we’re secretly heartbroken,” she said once they had a bit of peace again. “I guess more likely they just want to gossip.”

Liam nodded in agreement.

“Speaking of which,” Sophia continued, but she was cut off as a server suddenly appeared at Liam’s side, finally ready to take his order.

She kept her eyes fixed on him all the while, and Liam patently ignored her until the server was gone, already knowing exactly what—who—she was going to ask about.

“Well?” Liam prompted once the other man was gone. “You might as well just come right out with it.”

“I guess I’m mainly just wondering what you would have done,” Sophia said, “if Harry had picked you over Louis.”

Liam arched an eyebrow. “There wasn’t any question of who she was going to choose,” he argued. “I was only up for consideration because she thought Louis didn’t want her anymore.”

Sophia sighed. “Just humour me, then.”

Liam stared pensively at his wine and mulled over the potential consequences of having another glass. In the end, he decided against it. “I dunno,” he finally admitted, looking back up at her again. “I guess I never really thought that far ahead.”

Sophia sighed softly. “Have you tried to pull at all?” she wondered. “Since…?”

Right, Liam realised. She still didn’t know that Harry had come onto him again in the few short weeks since they’d last spoken. That was probably for the best, he quickly decided. “I just don’t think I’m in the mood,” he told her, and even though he wasn’t being entirely truthful, it wasn’t a dishonest assessment of his current mental state.

He really couldn’t imagine himself being with anyone _but_ Harry, as pathetic as it seemed. Liam had always been that way, though. He’d never understood how other people could have feelings for more than one person at a time, though he’d never begrudged them that experience.

“Wow,” Sophia replied deadpan. “You have it bad.”

“Shut up,” Liam said good-naturedly before changing the subject to something more benign.

It was on Liam’s last day in London that the new single was released for free. He sat with his phone in his hands in a dizzy panic, waiting for it to finally drop, and then the next few minutes after nervously awaiting a response. When the congratulations finally started to roll in from fans, friends, and family alike, Liam nearly passed out from the relief. He’d done it.

And yet—there was still something missing. He couldn’t help but see the lack of a message from Harry like a gaping black hole, eating up all of the other praises with its overwhelming absence. Fireproof had been a hit, sure, but Liam still left his flat for Heathrow the next day feeling utterly disappointed with himself.

It was raining when he arrived in LA, a torrential downpour bathing the normally sun-soaked city in washed-out grey. The weather only served to put Liam in a worse mood on the way to the hotel where he was meant to meet up with the other boys, all of whom were waiting there already after the conclusion of their own brief holidays.

Liam had been intending on heading straight for his room once he got there, but he didn’t make it that far; Harry caught him coming out of the lifts and made a beeline for him from the vending machine, calling out frantically until Liam finally paused in the middle of the corridor with a forced smile plastered onto his face.

“Hey,” she said chipperly. “You all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam replied, eager to move the conversation on so he could be done with it. “You?”

“Yeah! Louis just played the new song for me. It’s sick! You did amazing.”

Liam stood there shell-shocked as Harry stepped forward to give him a hug, one he failed to return thanks to the fact that his brain still had yet to process what Harry had just said to him. “Thanks,” he finally managed. “You didn’t listen to it in the studio?” he asked, confused.

“Well, sure, but it’s different hearing the real thing, you know? And all the fans love it. You must be so happy.”

“Yeah,” Liam replied a bit dazedly. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely.”

Like that, it was as if a switch had been flipped, his bad mood instantly transforming into a feeling of acute euphoria that carried him through the rest of the day, overpowering any minor inconvenience that he happened upon. Harry’s approval had just been that powerful, apparently.

After a while, the dizzying happiness started to become its own hindrance, like at dinner with the rest of the band that night when Liam suddenly couldn’t stop staring at Harry over every bite of his gourmet burger. He barely even tasted it.

It was bad enough that even Zayn and Niall noticed. Liam caught them exchanging loaded glances as the five of them finished their meal, and then on the way out of the restaurant, Zayn held Liam back while Niall told Harry and Louis to go ahead and take the first car, joking about all the time they still needed to catch up on while they’d been broken up.

Liam was annoyed at first, and then Zayn and Niall cornered him, and he was terrified.

“What the hell’s with you, bro?” Zayn demanded. “First you ignore us to hang all over Harry, then you start fighting with Harry and Louis, and now you’re what—all friends again? And why aren’t you telling us anything anymore? I’m surprised you even told me about the Sophia thing, because really? Announcing you broke up on Twitter? Come on.”

“It was her idea,” Liam argued before turning his attention to Niall in hopes that the other boy would take pity on him and give him an out. But this time, Niall’s expression was resolute. He wasn’t going to let Liam get away without giving them an explanation either. Liam sighed and gave in. “I’ll tell you in the car,” he said.

Liam ended up narrowly escaping that fate on the drive back to the hotel thanks to the fact that the second car to arrive didn’t have a privacy divider, but there was no reprieve when they got out of the lifts, after which Liam was practically frog-marched to Zayn’s room to resume their interrogation.

Thankfully, now there was weed involved.

Passing a joint around beforehand both helped to calm Liam’s nerves a bit as well as loosen his tongue. Before he even knew it, the whole story—minus the parts Harry had forbidden him to tell—was pouring out of him in a rush.

“I might have been a little more involved with Harry than I should have been,” Liam admitted while Niall and Zayn both stared at him with gobsmacked expressions.

“By involved, you mean….”

“You know.” Liam made a wanking gesture with his free hand before taking another drag. “Involved.” It felt unexpectedly good to admit it to the others finally after having to hide things for so long, but it still didn’t put him any closer to fixing the predicament he’d now found himself in. “I don’t really know how to go back to acting normal,” he confessed. He hadn’t told them that his and Harry’s involvement had extended past the hiatus of Harry and Louis’s relationship, nor the fact that Louis apparently seemed to be aware that Harry was fooling around on the side. Liam was still processing all that information himself. “It’s like every time I look at Harry I can’t stop thinking about—yeah.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, bro,” Zayn replied as he blew smoke rings that floated lazily up toward the ceiling. “This is so fucked, man.”

Niall, who already looked well on his way to falling asleep already, was no help either.

Liam wandered out of Zayn’s room in a daze nearly an hour later and made it all the way to the lifts before remembering that his room was in the opposite direction and backtracking. He stopped short in the middle of the corridor when he spotted Harry sat with her head pressed against the wall next to the door to his room.

“Hey,” she remarked as he approached, opening her eyes with a soft smile.

Liam just nodded and struggled to insert his keycard into the slot on the door. Harry stood and pushed him out of the way, snatching the card out of his hand so she could do it herself.

“You reek,” she noted as she followed him in the room.

“Yeah, well.” Liam couldn’t think of a good excuse. He turned around to wish her goodnight, only to find her standing right there in front of him when he spun around, her lips pressed against his before he could get out a single word. “What…was that about?” Liam wondered once she’d pulled back enough to give him a bit of breathing room again.

“Louis still doesn’t want to have sex,” Harry quickly explained. “He said he’s still getting used to the whole—thing.”

“Oh,” Liam replied. He wasn’t sure what that had to do with Harry kissing him, but before he could ask anything else, her hands were under his shirt, rucking it up to his armpits as she pressed another kiss against his mouth before taking it off completely.

“I’m horny all the time,” Harry confessed between breathless kisses. “I think it’s ‘cos they changed the dose.”

_So she was using him to get off?_ Liam wondered a bit frantically, even as he started to shed his clothes with Harry’s help.

Somehow, they made it to the bed, with Liam sat on the edge in just his pants while Harry knelt over him in boxers (Louis’s, he thought) and a baby pink sports bra that Liam had a distinct recollection of her buying when they went shopping together, one of the few undergarments she’d chosen to purchase on that trip.

Liam stared up at her helplessly, uncertain as to just what she wanted from him, but when she reached down for his hand, he gave it willingly.

Harry locked eyes with Liam as she guided his hand slowly down the front of her boxer shorts. He expected to find what he normally found in his own pants when he had a lob-on, what was tenting the front of his pants right now, but instead there was smooth, soft skin, pliable enough that it conformed to Liam’s fingers when Harry helped him curl them underneath, so that her penis was folded in on itself, with Liam’s palm cupping the outside, his fingers inside the pocket he’d created.

“Just,” she coaxed, driving his fingers gently in and out, pre-come slicking the way just enough to get a good rhythm as he rubbed against her while his palm kept everything pressed into place. “Like a girl,” she said breathily, and it was like with a girl, even though it wasn’t at the very same time.

Liam had assumed that it would be strange touching Harry like this, that he would find it weird or gross somehow, but instead he just stared up at Harry’s face in wonder while she rode his hand, her features scrunching up with the tell-tale signs of orgasm in just minutes.

After Harry came, she pulled Liam’s hand from out of her boxers and collapsed onto him, panting and near tears. Liam just held her for a moment, not sure exactly what the protocol was for cuddling when it was your best mate’s boyfriend getting off with you because he wouldn’t.

When she finally pulled away from Liam, he thought that would be it. She’d gotten what she wanted, and now Liam would be free to obsess over what had just happened alone in bed for the rest of the night.

But Harry didn’t leave right away like Liam had expected. Instead, she got down on her knees in front of hm again, reminding him of the blowjob he’d received on his birthday. And this time, when she pulled his cock out of his pants and drew it into her mouth, Liam placed a tentative hand on the back of her head, silently asking permission.

Harry gave it with an infinitesimal nod, and Liam carefully tugged her head down into his lap for a few seconds before pulling her off again, giving her a moment to breathe before he fucked her in earnest.

It didn’t take him long to come this time either, which was probably for the best given their upcoming show, but Liam was still taken by surprise when he felt his orgasm coiling rapidly in the pit of his stomach only a few minutes after Harry had first started. This time, he tugged her off completely and finished himself with his hand while Harry knelt there with her eyes closed, mouth open, looking like some pornographic gift pulled straight from one of Liam’s nightmares.

Liam felt instantly guilty as soon as his come splattered across her face; guiltier when she ducked into the bathroom to wash it off before leaving just as quickly. He laid in bed for a while just thinking, wondering what to make of this arrangement—if they could even call it that. How much did Louis even know?

Liam spent the majority of the days spent in Pasadena wondering if and when Harry would jump him again. There apparently wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it. They certainly hadn’t worked out a schedule, which meant Liam was constantly on guard, waiting for the next time Harry might see fit to attack him outside his hotel room.

But Harry, it seemed, was dealing with bigger problems. Or smaller, rather.

Niall was over the moon about it. “Pretty soon you’re going to be the shortest one in the band,” he joked as he tossed a tennis ball he’d gotten from god knows where up at the ceiling of the lounge in the Soho House where they’d taken refuge for the afternoon.

Zayn had seen fit to regale them with the latest in the fans’ crazy conspiracy theories while they sipped margaritas in the name of ‘bonding’, something Niall had insisted on after all the infighting that had taken place over the course of the past several months.

Harry just rolled her eyes and made a face at Niall, not bothering to humour his teasing by acknowledging the rumours that she was indeed, shrinking.

“We should have a measurin’,” Niall announced as he drunkenly waved his glass around. “Harry and Liam, go stand by the wall.”

Liam assumed that Harry wouldn’t bother indulging Niall’s antics, but when he looked up at her, she’d already begun to move into position as directed. He scrambled up out of his chair to join her and stood stock-still as Niall and the others helpfully nudged them into place.

“Hmm,” Niall said with a frown. He looked from Louis to Zayn. “What do you think?”

“Definitely shorter,” Zayn decided.

“I dunno…” Louis started to say, but Niall interrupted him before he could finish.

“You don’t get an opinion,” he said, jabbing a finger in Louis face. “You’re biased. And Harry is definitely shorter. Who’s the leprechaun now?” He cackled loudly as he downed the rest of his drink before darting out of the lounge and onto the patio, where he teetered precariously on the edge of the deck for a moment before falling face first into the pool.

Liam hadn’t paid much attention to Harry’s changing height before Niall had pointed it out, but over the next few days, he began watching her more carefully, and as a result, started to notice even more changes. The most prominent of which was that she tripped over her own feet constantly. Sure, she’d been clumsy enough before, but never like this. Harry could barely take three steps before almost falling—but strangely enough, the phenomenon seemed to be limited only to when she was wearing her trademark boots.

Finally, backstage in El Paso just before the start of the show, Harry came to an epiphany about her problem. “My shoes don’t fit,” she said in bemusement as she looked down at the worn pair of chelseas she’d donned countless times before without any issues whatsoever.

“Maybe it’s because you’re shrinking,” Zayn quipped.

“My _shoes_ don’t fit,” Harry repeated, this time a bit more angrily.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “So buy more shoes,” he told her. “You’re the one who always wants an excuse to go shopping.”

Even Harry couldn’t argue with that.

El Paso, as it turned out, was a place rife with revelations. Liam’s came in the form of an impulsive decision to treat Harry as if nothing had changed between the last tour and this one, when he came up to her from behind and pretended to grab her boobs only to remember too late that she had real ones now.

Liam grabbed them anyway, because it would have looked even worse if he’d reacted as though he’d touched a hot stove upon putting his hands on her. He played it up a little for the crowd to get a few laughs, conscious all the while of the way Harry’s hips pressed back into his while he manhandled her as a bit of fanservice. And maybe self-service, if he was being entirely honest.

Liam fled to the other side of the stage as soon as the moment ended and was careful to keep his distance after that, but that didn’t stop Harry from bursting into his dressing room the second the show was over and mounting his thigh like a dog in heat.

Liam was helpless to respond in any way other than kissing her back as she rutted against him, only to realise belatedly that something was different this time.

“You’re hard,” Liam said in surprise.

“It happens sometimes.” Harry paused with her crotch still pressed against Liam’s hip. “You’re not weirded out, are you?”

Liam shook his head. He wasn’t.

“Good.” She leaned in to kiss him again only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Harry?”

They only had seconds to separate and compose themselves before Louis walked in, but Liam knew immediately that they hadn’t gotten away with it. Louis’s nostrils flared as he took in the state of their dishevelled clothing and rumpled hair, but he didn’t say a word.

“Car’s round back,” he told Harry. She scampered away without a second glance in Liam’s direction. Louis’s eyes connected with his on the way out, but the emotion behind them was indecipherable.

Liam did his best to put the incident out of his mind. Louis didn’t seem intent on confronting him over it, so he told himself that it wouldn’t do any good to obsess over an argument that didn’t seem likely to happen.

That was easier said than done, though. Liam was still in the process of beating himself up over being caught in the act when Harry announced her plans to go shopping for new shoes almost as soon as they arrived in Las Vegas. Without even realising what he was doing, Liam opened his mouth to volunteer to go with her, at exactly the same time as Louis voiced his intentions to accompany her as well.

Zayn and Niall stared at them both like they’d each grown an additional head.

“We could all go?” Liam suggested weakly.

“Hell no,” Zayn replied. “I’m not getting in the middle of—that.”

Louis just let out a deep sigh, while Harry seemed delighted that there was anyone willing to come shopping with her to begin with. And Liam wasn’t shocked by her reaction. Having been shopping with her himself, he could guess why others would be reluctant to tag along.

There was a Gucci shop on the Strip, so the three of them bundled up as covertly as possible before heading out with one of their bodyguards. They weren’t expecting to be recognised, as everyone in Las Vegas would probably be so distracted by everything else going on that they wouldn’t be likely to notice three popstars making their way to the designer boutiques, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

They made it to Gucci without incident, and once inside, Harry quickly sweet-talked the manager on duty into being given a private room in which to try things on.

Liam and Louis sat on a soft bench against the far wall while Harry picked out a seemingly endless assortment of new shoes, each more ostentatious than the last, almost all of which were distinctly feminine or flamboyant in some way. The kind of thing that Harry would have never been allowed to get away with just a year ago.

Eventually, while sitting there, Liam had an epiphany. This was a date, he realised. Or it would have been if he wasn’t there. Or if Louis wasn’t. At this point, they were both playing the bored boyfriend while Harry tried on shoe after shoe after shoe.

It wasn’t until Harry suddenly disappeared in the company of one of the store’s employees that both Liam and Louis perked up at last. When she re-entered the room, it was on even more wobbly legs than usual, thanks to the rose-coloured stilettos now adorning her feet. She laughed and gave an awkward twirl as she entered. “You like?” she asked, clearly meaning it as a joke, but neither Liam nor Louis were in the joking mood.

The thing was, despite her gawkiness, the heels made her legs look really, really good. Even Louis, who Liam assumed didn’t care much for women’s legs, looked like he might drop dead right there on the spot as he stared at Harry.

“They look really nice,” Liam finally managed. “But uh, I feel like you might be in danger if you actually try to walk in them.”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a sad little sigh. “I don’t know how girls do it, honestly.” She sat down to pull off the shoes before collecting her actual purchases into a neat little pile to be rung up and bagged so that they could finally leave.

The ride back to their hotel was fraught with a peculiar type of tension. It wasn’t the same as when Louis and Liam’s relationship had been on the rocks, or when Liam had been going out of his way to avoid Louis and Harry so as not to disturb the peace. No, this was the type of tension that had built up between two people who were both sat wondering just whose hotel room Harry would be coming back to that evening.

Louis and Liam exchanged a knowing glance in the lift as they waited for it to reach their floor while Harry bounced on her heels in front of them, oblivious to the silent communication taking place right behind her.

Liam sucked in a quiet breath as the doors finally opened. His room was to the left; Louis’s to the right. But Harry didn’t turn left or right, instead marching straight down the opposing corridor toward her own suite at the very end of the hall. She disappeared through the door with nothing but a cheeky wave in farewell, leaving Louis and Liam stood speechless in the lift.

Their bodyguard eyed them both warily as he held the doors open. “You weren’t trying to get to a different floor, were you?” he asked, confused, the question finally jolting them out of their reverie.

“No,” Louis said primly as he stepped through the doors. “Thank you.”

Liam walked out into the corridor and stared after him as Louis made his way toward his own room, contemplating having it out with him about his and Harry’s arrangement right then and there. But before he could make a decision either way, Louis disappeared into his hotel room, snatching the opportunity from Liam’s fingers.

Liam hadn’t intentionally gotten his hopes up for more from Harry, but apparently his dick had, because by the time he got undressed and in bed, he found himself caught up in thoughts of how Harry’s legs had looked in those heels, and not even the telly was an effective tactic to distract himself from wanking.

Liam felt a bit guilty over that one, but the required interaction with Harry the next day was thankfully minimal, which gave him a bit of time to numb himself to the memory.

Louis was predictably antsy over the next several days as the release date for Steal My Girl grew ever closer. Just like Fireproof had been Liam’s baby, Steal My Girl was Louis’s, although they had worked on both together. And now, Louis was going to have to live up to the expectations that Fireproof had already set. He was clearly on edge, even though Liam thought he had nothing to worry about. The song was solid. It was catchy.

And it was also about Harry.

When it dropped, Liam was the first to congratulate Louis on the win, as a peace offering of sorts. Louis accepted the well-wishes without much enthusiasm, but Liam just chalked it up to a residual effect of his nerves.

“Did you see that some of the fans already guessed the song is about Harry?” Liam joked as they walked from their trailer to craft services together. The weed had loosened his tongue a bit, making him ramble more than he might have otherwise, especially in front of such a large group of unfamiliar crew members who could potentially overhear.

Louis gave him a sharp look as they retrieved their food. “No,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Liam continued. “I suppose they don’t even know how right they are. Because technically, you didn’t even need to change the pronouns.”

The face Louis made in response to Liam’s joke instantly killed the lingering buzz from his high. He stopped in the middle of the lot, watching as Louis stormed off to his individual trailer to eat in private while Liam wondered just what the hell Louis was doing with Harry if he couldn’t even handle who she really was.


	11. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot it was Monday today. D: Oops.
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

The upcoming end of the tour had Harry in a tizzy. She flitted around the hotel in Atlanta like she was on amphetamines—though Liam knew full well that that stage in her life was long over—right up until the show itself, which helped alleviate at least a portion of her nervous energy. Afterward, she grasped frantically for Liam’s hand backstage, and he gave it to her without question.

“Where’s Louis?” Liam wondered as she pulled him out to one of the cars.

Harry shrugged. “Wanted to go out with Lottie and Zayn for a bit, I think.”

Liam glanced around sceptically as he followed her into the backseat, half-afraid that this was a prank or a trap of some kind and that he was being secretly tested by Louis himself to see if Liam could resist temptation and keep his distance. But staying away from Harry was virtually impossible. The last few months had already taught Liam that.

Harry slumped over on top of Liam as soon as they were buckled in and ready to go, her head fitting into the curve of his shoulder like it was meant to go there. Liam’s heart hurt. As melodramatic as it might have sounded had he said the words out loud—it ached.

It wasn’t any better when they made it back to the hotel, and Liam knew the smart thing to do would be to send Harry packing as soon as they got out of the lifts. But he didn’t say a word when Harry wordlessly followed him down the corridor to his room. He held the door open for her to go inside first.

Harry bounced onto Liam’s bed with a happy sigh and then just as quickly made herself a cosy burrow beneath the covers with just the top of her head sticking out, her curls a wild mess against the crisp white pillow.

Liam stared at her. Harry stared right back.

“You’re not going to just stand there all night, are you?” she finally challenged as she sat up a bit. “It’s your bed,” she pointed out, as though she weren’t the one currently invading it.

Liam let out a soft sigh of defeat and crawled under the covers next to her.

Harry laid back down again immediately, facing Liam with her hands tucked under one cheek like they were at a slumber party. Liam mimicked the position and blinked softly at her, wondering if they were meant to fall asleep together like this, wondering what Louis would think of it if they did.

“It’s soon,” Harry said unexpectedly.

“What is?” Liam replied before abruptly connecting the dots. “Oh, right,” he continued as she opened her mouth to answer. The closer they got to the end of tour, the closer they got to Harry having to come out to the fans. To everyone.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Liam blinked at her a few more times, momentarily distracted by the shadow her eyelashes cast against her cheeks. “Are you scared?” he wondered. “Or excited, I suppose?”

Harry gave a tiny shrug. “A bit of both,” she admitted. “Been thinking about just going into hiding for a little while after.”

Liam laughed at the idea of Harry holing up in a cabin somewhere in the middle of the woods away from society while the rest of the world adjusted to the change, but the laugh trailed off as soon as his mind inserted himself into the fantasy: going hiking with Harry, cooking with Harry, taking care of half a dozen cats with Harry. And where did Louis fit into all of that?

Harry must have been slowly inching closer to Liam without him realising it, because suddenly they were breathing the same air, and Liam didn’t know what to do. It would have been easy enough to close what little distance there was left between their mouths, but Liam hesitated, staring down helplessly at the open invitation of Harry’s parted lips instead without moving. It wasn’t like it would be the first time they’d done this, but the moment somehow felt more charged than any of the occasions that had preceded it. Liam knew that if he kissed Harry now, it would mean something.

Liam contemplated, dithered. He waited too long. Just as he’d about made up his mind and decided to lean in, Harry rolled over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling instead.

“I should probably go to bed,” she said, and there was no room in her voice for Liam to even entertain the possibility that she meant with him.

“Okay,” Liam replied just as Harry turned again to press a quick, chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth before hopping out of his bed and going to the door without another word exchanged between them.

Liam just watched her go and wished that he wasn’t such a coward after all.

The next show was when shit really hit the fan.

Lottie was with them for the remaining dates on the tour, and somehow she’d managed to convince Lou—who didn’t appear happy about the arrangement at all—to let her take over doing Harry’s hair for the Tampa show.

Harry was delighted, of course, which made perfect sense since she secretly hated most of what Lou forced her into doing with her wild mop of rapidly growing hair that refused to let itself be tamed by any amount of product (and boy, did Lou try).

Lottie decided to go with a different strategy, opting to pin Harry’s hair up in an elaborately crafted bun, with braids on either side to hold the shorter bits in place.

Harry’s face lit up the second she spotted the finished product in the mirror. For a while after, she couldn’t stop touching it, which is of course when Lou swooped back in to smack her hands away with an admonishment clearly given just to assert her dominance in the hair styling realm once more.

Liam caught Lou looking askance more than once at Louis throughout the whole process and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d said something to her to convince her to let Lottie style Harry’s hair instead. Liam wouldn’t put it past him; Louis could be very persuasive. And assertive. And it was atypical for Lou to take a backseat on anything, let alone her actual job.

Whatever the reasons, Liam couldn’t fault the result. Harry was glowing as she skipped merrily across the stage during their performance, belting out her lines with a brand-new enthusiasm, a level of confidence he hadn’t even known she had the ability to achieve.

Afterward, Liam couldn’t help but comment on it. “Gonna hire Lottie as your personal hair stylist, then?”

Louis was in earshot, his head perking up at the comment. But he didn’t interrupt.

Harry grinned as she mopped up the sweat still pouring down her face. “Maybe,” she replied. “Maybe Louis can talk them into letting her have a spot on the next tour,” she added.

This time, Louis moved over to them as if Harry speaking his name had literally summoned him. “What about me?” he asked, tugging Harry quickly—almost possessively—into his side. He didn’t look at Liam.

“Just singing your praises, babe,” Harry replied with a fond smile.

Liam’s stomach churned as Louis leaned into kiss her, without hesitation, without restraint. Evidently, whatever qualms Louis had before about their rekindled relationship were now gone.

Which probably meant that his and Harry’s ‘arrangement’ was over, Liam realised. If one could even call it that.

Liam half-expected there to be some sort of tangible sense of relief in knowing he wasn’t going to be unexpectedly accosted by Harry anymore, but instead he just felt hollow. Empty. Like something he hadn’t known he’d possessed had just been stolen.

When Liam ran into Zayn back at the hotel, he didn’t even think before asking the other boy if he wanted to go up to the lounge for a drink. And if Liam overindulged a bit at the bar that night, that wasn’t anyone’s business but his own.

“You look terrible,” were the first words Harry uttered to Liam the next morning, and they resounded like church bells inside his tender, aching skull.

Liam winced and brushed past her to get to the muffins without giving a reply. He knew that if he opened his mouth right then that he’d only regret whatever came out.

Harry ignored him for the remainder of breakfast with a wounded look plastered across her face, and Liam tried in vain to tell himself that it was what he’d wanted.

Liam pretended not to notice the glares Louis shot at him from across the table, but when it came time to head back up to their rooms to retrieve their things, Louis was there waiting for Liam in front of the lift, his arms crossed over his chest in a sign of blatant aggression, and Liam knew there was no getting past him without having some kind of argument first.

Liam sighed and steeled himself for whatever would follow. “What do you want?” he asked exhaustedly.

“Why are you being such a bitch to Harry?” Louis demanded.

“Why is she being such a bitch to me?” Liam shot back without thinking.

Louis’s eyes hardened. “You’re lucky we have a show tomorrow,” he said in a surprisingly level tone, “or I’d have decked you for that.”

Liam just shook his head. “You won,” he replied flatly. “So just do me a favour and fuck off.” He took advantage of Louis’s apparent stunned silence to push past him to get to the lift, and when he pressed the button for their floor, Louis didn’t follow him, instead just staring back at Liam with a strange expression as the doors slowly closed between them.

The drive from Tampa to Miami was miserable—at least the parts of it that Liam spent awake with a barf bag clutched in his hands. Just in case. Luckily, it ended up not being necessary, but as soon as they reached the new hotel and got their key cards, Liam headed straight up to his room to sleep off the rest of his hangover.

The next day Liam was in no better a mood despite the fact that it was their final show of the tour and he should have by all accounts been elated. Or at least relieved. The schedule this year hadn’t been as gruelling as the last, but it was undeniable that the constant travelling took its toll on all of them.

Liam felt as if his emotional range had been put through a trash compactor, compressed until the only thing he could possibly still feel was exhaustion. He hoped it’d be better once it actually came time to perform that night, because there was no possible way he could put on a decent show in his current state.

Liam hadn’t put much thought beforehand into how Harry would follow up the new hairstyle she’d sported in Tampa, but he certainly wasn’t expecting her to join them backstage just before the start of the show with her curls loose once again, her hair pulled back out of her face with a headscarf striped in the colours of the trans pride flag.

Harry caught sight of Liam gaping at her seconds before they walked on; she beamed from ear to ear like she’d never been happier in her life, and somehow, Liam felt the heavy weight pressing in on his ribcage start to ease.

All of them, but especially Harry, put on one of the best performances of their lives that night.

Liam felt proud watching her interact with the crowd, knowing that she was representing herself in the loudest way she could without compromising Modest’s plans for an announcement during album promo. And after, when Liam caught sight of her backstage after the show looking like she might burst from happiness, he knew he couldn’t let her go without telling her so.

Liam caught her arm as she started to walk by, stopping her in her tracks with a surprised expression tugging the smile off her face. “Hey,” she said automatically, expectant.

Liam had to swallow a few times before he could muster up a response. “Hey,” he said back, his voice on the urge of breaking. “Just wanted to tell you that I’m, you know, proud—of you. Of putting yourself out there like that.”

Harry smiled softly at him as he released her arm. “Thanks,” she replied. And that was it. She kept walking, joining up with Louis again at the far end of the hallway before disappearing completely out of view.

Liam had to fight back a storm of disappointed tears in the car on the way back to the hotel. Alone.

They all went back to London after the conclusion of the tour, and customarily, they’d celebrate together once they were all home again. But London wasn’t even home for all of them anymore, and Liam couldn’t bring himself to see Harry’s face outside of strictly work-related activities without having a near-breakdown. When Liam got a text from her inviting him to a party with the lads at her new house in Hampstead, he didn’t bother even sending a reply.

Liam moped alone in his flat instead, trying to distract himself with reality shows and wishing he wasn’t acutely aware of the sharp pang of regret in his gut that threatened to overwhelm him when he realised that the others were all at Harry’s place right then, enjoying themselves without him.

Harry didn’t text again to ask why he hadn’t showed.

The next time Liam spoke to anyone from the band was a few days later when they were all called in for the long-awaited meeting with their publicist to discuss what exactly they were going to do about Harry’s coming out.

Liam was the second to arrive after Niall, who merely looked bored despite the fact that he was one of the two that didn’t even know why they were being summoned. Thankfully, before Niall could think to ask Liam about it, Louis and Harry arrived simultaneously, followed by Zayn, and it was only a few minutes later that their publicist, Martina, finally called them in via her assistant to join her inside the conference room.

“So,” Martina said by way of introduction. “We’re here to discuss a somewhat delicate matter.” She nodded toward Harry. “As I understand it, the plan is for you to come out publicly as transgender within the next month to coincide with the release of the new album.”

Liam stared down at his shoes to avoid examining the expressions on Niall’s and Zayn’s faces. Neither said anything, but Martina continued speaking as if whatever nonverbal cues they’d given had been enough for her to gauge the situation accordingly.

“I sense from your reactions that this is a surprise to some of you,” she continued drily.

Liam finally looked up just as Louis opened his mouth to answer. “Liam and I have known for a while now,” he explained.

Harry’s face was bright red. “We should have told you,” she said earnestly to Zayn, and then Niall in turn. “But I wasn’t sure….” She shrugged, her mouth snapping closed before she could finish the thought.

Zayn looked annoyed at being kept out of the loop, but Niall just seemed to take it all in stride. “I guess it explains a lot,” Niall remarked. “The way you lot have been acting like mentalists all tour, at least.”

“I just thought that was more gay stuff,” Zayn replied.

“Well, it was,” Harry cut in. “Well. Sort of.”

Liam didn’t bother to volunteer his input on the matter. There wasn’t any point.

Martina ignored their sidebar and reached for a portfolio folder next to her laptop, from which she pulled out five neatly-printed booklets with blank covers—each colour-coded to their mics. She passed each to its corresponding owner and then explained patiently as they thumbed through the booklets, “Harry helped me prepare some material for all of you to reference in preparation for interviews. We’ll try to avoid fielding questions about this live for now, but if you are asked, defer to Harry when possible.”

“Why does Harry get one?” Niall asked innocently as he flipped through the pages at a rate far too rapid to be absorbing any sort of information from it.

“It’s better if we all stick to a script for now,” Martina explained. “Harry included.” She cleared her throat a bit. “I’ve forwarded some additional information about the interviews we have scheduled to your emails already along with the line-ups. I know there were some…concerns about certain relationships overshadowing the news about the album, and adding Harry’s announcement is going to complicate that even more, so for now we’ll continue separating Louis and Harry during paired interviews.”

Liam’s stomach churned a bit upon hearing that. The likelihood of being paired with one of them was astronomical when they were separated like that, and he still wasn’t sure he could bear to be in a room with either without the other boys there as a buffer.

“Any questions?” Martina asked, wholly oblivious to the fact that Liam was currently contemplating throwing himself out the nearest window to avoid being stuck in a series of interviews with Harry or Louis in the near future.

“Yeah, I have one,” Zayn replied, somehow managing to sound bored despite everything. He glanced up from the booklet Martina had given him and arched an eyebrow in apparent scepticism. “Why are we even bothering to go public with this in the first place? I mean, no offence, Harry, but the fans aren’t exactly going to be happy about it.”

Liam forced himself not to look at Harry, not wanting to see her reaction to Zayn’s statement. It wasn’t that Zayn was wrong either, at least not entirely, but surely he could understand why Harry didn’t care so much about making the fans happy anymore.

“The fans are already starting to suspect something,” Martina informed him patiently. “We’ve decided it’s better to lose any fans now that would disapprove of Harry’s decision than to continue hiding it for longer than we have the ability to control and risk alienating fans who would have otherwise supported this.”

It didn’t escape Liam’s notice that not once had Martina referred to Harry with any pronouns whatsoever. He wondered if that was intentional, and if it was, whether it was due to discomfort or at the request of Harry herself. He was betting on the former, as depressing at it was to think about.

“Okay,” Zayn responded. He sounded less than enthused about Martina’s explanation, but evidently wasn’t keen on arguing the point. “How are we announcing it, then?”

Martina looked a bit more dubious as she glanced down at her notes before answering. “Initially, we were planning to announce it as soon as the tour was done,” she said, “but we’ve decided to push it back to November, after the album is released.”

“What?” Liam couldn’t help the outburst. “Why?”

“Because,” Martina replied emphatically, turning her head to meet Liam’s questioning glare head on, “it’ll save us the trouble of cluttering promo with irrelevant questions about Harry, as well as giving the band a boost in the press once the album is available for sale.”

Liam was fuming at that, but it only took one glance around the room to see that he was the only one who seemed to have an issue with Harry’s coming out being used as a tool to manipulate sales. “Okay,” he bit out after seeing that Martina was clearly expecting a response to her statement.

“The plan is to make a semi-formal announcement at the AMAs during your speech—”

“What if we don’t win anything?” Niall cut in cheekily.

Martina gave him a sharp look. “You’ll win,” she said firmly. “We’ll put up an official statement on social media following the announcement, and from there we’ll have to play it a bit by ear, but that should impact Harry more than the rest of you. We’re already in talks with YSL and Gucci about co-ordinating a brand deal for Harry in showcasing the androgynous side of fashion, so this may end up being a very good thing for the mainstream media image of the band as a whole.”

Liam couldn’t hold in the scoff that escaped his mouth in response to the fact that Harry was somehow coming out of this as the golden child within the band once again. Like a favoured sibling who got taken out for ice cream when they broke the rules instead of being punished. And it wasn’t like Liam thought she deserved to be punished for anything she’d done, and it wasn’t like he didn’t think she deserved a brand deal, but it was just so…Harry to not only get away with lying to their management for months without any consequences but also to end up being rewarded for it on top of everything else.

And that left Liam, her dim-witted accomplice throughout all of this, with nothing. Even Louis, who had spent the better part of the last year practically hating her had come out on top while Liam was left in the dust, bitter and alone.

None of the others dignified Liam’s reaction with a reply, but Liam wasn’t surprised when Harry pulled him away from the others as they were leaving the conference room. He followed her into a side corridor, ignoring the curious glances from the rest of the lads a few yards away, and steeled himself for whatever outburst she had in store for him.

But Harry didn’t seem mad. She seemed concerned. “Why are you so upset?” she asked in a soft voice. “I thought this was what you wanted me to do.”

“Well,” Liam replied venomously, “when I envisioned all of this going down, I didn’t really expect that you’d get a fucking brand deal in return for lying to everyone and making me help you do it.”

Harry reared back as if Liam had physically struck her. Her face tensed like she was trying to hold back reactionary tears, but she held her ground. “I know you aren’t really upset about the brand deal,” she said evenly.

Liam swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. “No,” he replied, feeling sufficiently chastised already. “I’m not. I’m upset because of you.” He half-expected her to be gone when he finally looked up again, but Harry was still stood there right in front of him, her brows creased in sympathy.

“What did I do?” she asked.

Liam couldn’t believe she didn’t already know. He said nothing and walked past her, leaving before he had a chance to change his mind.

Liam found over the next couple weeks that he was both grateful at not having to see much of Harry and upset that she had made no effort to contact him after their fight, even though at the back of his mind he was fully aware that it took two to tango and he was just as much as fault as she for not trying to contact her first.

He didn’t hear from Louis either, which was a relief at first, until Liam realised how much worse it made him feel to no longer be on speaking terms with one of his best friends anymore.

Still, it was a relief to learn that each of their scenes for the Night Changes video would be filmed on different sets. Liam caught himself wondering as he went through the motions whether Harry’s part had been changed any to accommodate for her coming out or whether they’d decided to leave it as is. He wasn’t ballsy enough to even consider asking Ben, who seemed to be operating on a rather short temper for the duration of their shoot, which was only exacerbated by the fact that Liam couldn’t seem to hit any of his marks no matter how hard he tried.

Finally, Ben couldn’t take it anymore and pulled Liam aside between takes to straighten him out. “What’s going on?” he asked in a surprisingly tender voice—his ‘dad voice’, Harry called it. “You’ve been in a mood all morning. It’s not like you.”

Liam shrugged. “Just tired, I guess,” he lied. “I’m trying. I really am.”

“I know you are.” Ben rested a steady, comforting hand on Liam’s shoulder. “You know, Meri and I had Harry over the other night for dinner,” he said.

Liam nodded and resolutely maintained a neutral expression, not sure where Ben was going with this considering he didn’t know the details of what had happened between him and Harry. Unless Harry had told him.

“She brought Louis with her, which was a surprise,” Ben continued. “I almost thought she was going to bring you instead.” When Liam didn’t respond, he kept going. “Things are back to normal, then?” he asked in a slightly cautious tone.

Liam nodded and tried to look happy about it. After all, getting Harry and Louis back together had been his original goal. “Suppose so,” he remarked dully.

Ben examined Liam’s expression carefully before responding. “You don’t seem pleased to hear that,” he observed, as if the fact that Liam’s heart was in a million different pieces wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

Liam swallowed hard and nodded, deciding it best to just admit to the truth. “I’m not,” he confessed.

Ben smiled knowingly and gave Liam’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “It’ll pass,” he said in a reassuring tone.

But Liam wasn’t so sure it would.

The next time Liam saw Harry in person was at the BBC1 interview at the very end of the month. Liam was embarrassed by the way something lit up inside him just at the sight of her face, but he supposed he couldn’t be blamed when she looked like _that_ —like the prettiest girl he’d ever had the misfortune to know. It was difficult reconciling the way Liam saw her now with the way the rest of the world still seemed to, as just a gangly, odd-looking boy with unruly hair.

Liam had to force himself not to look directly at her throughout the entire interview with the exception of when she was actually speaking. It wouldn’t do to fuel the fires of controversy that had already begun to rage within the fandom when Harry’s announcement was less than a month away. Relationship rumours, especially the ones about love triangles within the band that were all-too true, were the last thing any of them needed right before an album release.

Liam jerked his head to the side again as soon as Scott addressed Harry directly.

“What’s with the hair?” Scott questioned unexpectedly, going off-script. “You’re always trying out new styles, new phases, right? Are we gonna see a buzzcut next?”

Harry smiled coyly and shook her head. “I don’t really think of it as a phase,” she replied. “I’m just embracing who I really am, I guess.”

“A Mick Jagger clone?” Scott quipped with a laugh.

Harry gave a short laugh of her own in reply. “Not quite,” she said.

Liam didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath throughout the exchange until it was over and Scott turned to ask him a question about the album instead.

Liam was glad that interviewing was by far his forte, because Harry was distracting enough in the corner of his vision that he wasn’t sure he could have gotten through it if answering questions about their music wasn’t like breathing to him now. As it was, he was still grateful when the interview portion finally ended and they moved on to the secret book signing instead.

And Liam had never been more thankful to have someone sat between him and Harry, blocking her entirely from view as he dealt with the fans—another blessed distraction.

He was still exhausted from the ordeal after, though, the strain of trying to avoid saying or doing the wrong thing fraying his nerves to the point where as soon as they were excused to wait for their cars, Liam couldn’t help but break into silent tears right there in the corner while the others chatted animatedly amongst themselves.

Harry noticed, of course. She always noticed when someone was hurting.

“Li,” she said as she delicately wrapped a hand around his wrist, trying to tug his hand away from his eyes. “Liam, if this is because of me—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Liam snapped. He yanked his arm out of her grip and took a step even farther away. “Just leave me alone,” he told her. It was embarrassing enough that she’d caught him crying. He didn’t need her to sit there and watch him while he tried to pull himself together. “I’ve had enough, all right?”

Liam didn’t look up to watch her go, but when his car finally pulled up and he yanked his head up at the familiar honk, Harry and the others had all gone. He was alone.


	12. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Hopefully you all enjoyed the fic and are satisfied with the conclusion. :) As of right now, I'm still working on a longer fic that's being posted Elsewhere as well as a series of drabbles every day in June, so I won't be regularly updating on AO3 until those are finished. You can look out for some Requested oneshots in the meantime, or find links to the aforementioned projects on social media. Thanks to everyone who left kudos and commented!
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Liam hadn’t been ignoring his family on purpose, but for almost an entire week he’d done nothing but eat whatever was in his freezer while watching re-runs of old films in his room, too emotionally fried to even consider picking up his phone.

He hadn’t even contemplated getting delivery yet and was pretty sure he’d need to charge his phone at some point to even call a take-out place, so when Liam’s intercom promptly pinged at half-three, he wasn’t sure what to make of it for a moment.

Eventually, he got out of bed to answer it, mostly out of curiosity. He wasn’t expecting to see both of his sisters on the other side of the door, staring up at the security camera with matching frowns while they waited for him to open the door.

Liam pressed his forehead against the door and sighed before opening it to let them in.

“Where’s your phone?” Nicola demanded as soon as she stepped foot inside Liam’s flat, looking around wildly like she might be able to find it lying in plain sight somewhere amongst Liam’s furniture.

“In my room,” Liam replied flatly. “Probably dead, I don’t even know. I haven’t looked at it in a few days. Why?”

“Mum’s been trying to get a hold of you since the weekend,” Ruth informed him as she passed by with her coat in hand before flopping down onto the sofa. “She’s half-convinced you’re dead.”

“Well as you can see,” Liam said, already starting to get annoyed with his sisters’ antics even though they’d hardly been inside a minute, “I’m perfectly fine. But go ahead and make yourselves at home. Can I get you a cup of tea? It’s not like I was busy working or anything.”

Nicola cocked her head to the side and gave Liam a sceptical look. “I can hear The Breakfast Club playing from in here,” she pointed out. “You should be grateful we’ve come to save you from an hour and a half of pure boredom.”

Ruth laughed at that comment which only incensed Liam further.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I’m an adult. I don’t need looking in on once a week just because I didn’t think to call home. Christ.”

“Oh, hush, Liam,” Nicola scolded as she finally moved to join Ruth in the sitting room on the other sofa. “We already know you’re sulking over something. The pile of dirty dishes and take-out containers is staggeringly obvious.”

Liam rolled his eyes and desperately wished he had a different sister, one who wasn’t such a smart-arse. He gave himself a few seconds to simmer down and then walked into the sitting room after Nicola, curling up on the recliner next to the sofa and looking toward his sisters expectantly.

“What do you want, then?” he demanded. “I assume Mum knows I’m alive now, so.” He threw his hands up in desperation and sank deeper into the chair, knowing that whatever explanation Ruth and Nicola had for ambushing him in his own home, it wasn’t going to be one he liked.

Both women stared at Liam, unwavering in their disapproval.

“We know something’s wrong, Li,” Ruth told him.

“This is classic post-break up behaviour,” Nicola chimed in. “Rebound gone bad? You’re not still this beat up over Sophia, are you?”

“It’s not Sophia,” Liam replied sharply without really meaning to. By the time he registered what he’d said, it was already too late to take the words back. He sighed, closing his eyes against his sisters’ inquisitive gazes. “It’s Harry,” he finally bit out before launching into a full explanation of the past year.

For once, Ruth and Nicola listened without even attempting to interrupt, for which Liam was grateful. And at the end of his tale, he flopped down again with a weary sigh, feeling as if even just the retelling had taken off another five years of life.

His sisters remained quiet for a moment after Liam finished speaking, and then finally, Nicola piped up with a suggestion. “You could just try talking to them,” she said with only a hint of the condescension she normally used, which told Liam that she was at least making an effort to be nice about it.

Liam stared back forlornly. “Why? So Harry can tell me to my face that she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore?”

“Yes, Liam!” Ruth chimed in. “That’s part of being an adult. You have to work with them; you can’t just ignore your problems and hope they go away. If whatever you and Harry were doing—” She looked vaguely uncomfortable at this bit, but Liam supposed it must have been weird to be confronted with the knowledge that your baby brother was having sex. “If that’s over,” she continued, “then you need to clear the air so you can all move on.”

As much as Liam didn’t want to admit it, because the thought of confessing to Harry how he really felt about her scared the living shit out of him, he knew Ruth and Nicola were right. And there was only so long that he could keep avoiding Harry and Louis for the sake of keeping peace.

But now wasn’t the right time, he told himself—and his sisters. Not with Harry’s coming out announcement drawing ever-nearer. It wouldn’t do to rock the boat just now.

The next time Liam saw Harry in the flesh was just a couple days later at the Four hangout livestream. It hadn’t been that long since he’d last seen her, but again he found himself abruptly struck by how pretty she looked, to the point where he couldn’t help but pull her aside to ask if she was wearing makeup.

“Just a little,” Harry replied with a laugh before stepping away again.

Liam was grateful that between the livestream itself, making their video for the EMA wins, and their X Factor performance, there wasn’t much time to interact with Harry or Louis at all. There wasn’t much of an opportunity to think either, and by the time Liam made it to his bed that night, he fell face first into the mattress, so exhausted that for the first time in weeks he didn’t even have the energy to worry about Harry at all.

Liam woke up later than usual the next morning, his phone blinking insistently next to his head. Liam thumbed it open, surprised to find that he had a new text from Louis from all people. His eyes bugged out when he read it.

_H’s getting a new tattoo. Wanna come with?_

The smart thing would be to politely decline and continue staying away from Harry as much as possible until they had a chance to get things sorted. Liam knew that. And he knew that putting himself in a room with Harry where there was nothing to do but look at her for a few hours was by far the worst decision he could possibly make.

He sent back an affirmative anyway.

Louis and Harry came round his flat to pick Liam up, which in hindsight was even more of a mistake than if he’d just met up with them at the studio. This way, if Liam needed to make a quick escape for any reason, he’d be screwed.

The ride there was tense, the silence that settled in on them after they exchanged greetings almost overwhelming despite the sounds of The 1975 playing over the car stereo. Liam couldn’t bring himself to speak up even just to ask Harry in advance what she was planning to get. The tattoos had slowed down a lot since last year, but she still had quite a lot of real estate left, and the laurels had been quite the surprise. There was no predicting what she’d go for.

Once they reached Sparkes’s studio, Liam sat himself down in a nearby chair while Harry got ready, extending one arm—the more heavily tattooed of the two—for Sparkes to prep while she reached out with the other to take Louis’s hand.

Liam felt sick.

Finally, Sparkes finished transferring the stencil onto Harry’s arm and moved out of the way to get everything else ready, allowing Liam to finally get a glimpse of the design. He raised an eyebrow.

Harry caught sight of his sceptical expression immediately. “What,” she said, almost laughing, “you don’t like it?”

“It’s very…naked,” Liam noted.

Louis scoffed at the comment, but Liam ignored him.

Harry just grinned even wider. “Yeah, I can’t wait to see whether they censor her whenever we do a bit of telly from now on.”

“Why are you getting it?” Liam wondered, his view of the piece being cut off once more as Sparkes stepped back in between them to start in on Harry’s arm. He could only just see the top three-quarters of her face, but it was enough that Liam could make out the vaguely blissed-out expression that immediately seemed to come over her as soon as needle made contact with skin. “H?”

“Sorry, um.” She already seemed a bit hazy, like she couldn’t quite form a complete thought while the tattoo gun was buzzing against her arm. “Shouldn’t it be obvious?” she finally said with a dopey smile.

Liam just shook his head, non-plussed, while Louis huffed out a laugh.

“Oh, well,” Harry continued, frowning a bit, “because mermaids are half of one thing and half of another. Like me, yeah?” Her mouth pulled into a slow smile again as Liam worked. A few minutes later, she spoke up again, her words almost slurring together like she was drunk. “Besides,” she said, “when I was a kid, I always wanted to be a mermaid when I grew up.”

Harry was mostly quiet for the rest of the session, murmuring a few words here and there in response to either Louis or Sparkes as they checked in on how she was feeling periodically. Liam was too entranced by the sight of the tattoo forming on her skin to say much at all, too overwhelmed by the fact that he was stuck in a room with the two people he’d been trying his best to avoid to even attempt to feign normality.

Harry was a wreck when they finished, two bright spots of pink riding high on her cheekbones as she swayed unsteadily on her feet before promptly collapsing into Louis’s arms.

Louis let out a soft sigh and dug around in his pockets for a moment before coming up with his car key. “You good to drive?” he asked.

Liam nodded, and deftly caught the key fob when Louis promptly lobbed it at his head.

Liam was grateful at the start to have the distraction of driving keeping him sane as he headed back to his own flat, carefully dedicating his utmost attention to navigating the perils of London traffic to keep his mind from circling back to the way Harry had looked when she’d gotten out of the chair, her pupils blown and hair mussed and—

Liam glanced back in the rear-view mirror, desperately trying to find his focus again. What he saw in its reflection almost made him drive straight off the road. “Louis!” he gasped.

When he looked up again, Louis was staring straight back at him with a determined expression, his hand still shoved down the front of Harry’s jeans, where she was clearly humping back against the palm of his hand while her mouth hung open in pleasure.

Liam opened his mouth to protest again and then promptly shut it, forcing himself to stare straight out at the road ahead instead. If this was some kind of game Louis was playing, a challenge, Liam was determined not to lose.

He sped toward his flat as fast as traffic would allow and then practically leapt out of the vehicle as soon as they reached the parking garage, not even bothering to acknowledge Louis’s faint ‘thanks’ as he stormed off.

The next few days leading up to the album release were as busy as ever. For the first block of interviews, Liam lucked out. The whole band was put together as a group, and even though it meant he had to endure Louis and Harry being as lovey-dovey as possible every time the cameras were off, it was still easy enough to ignore them in favour of focusing on the interviews themselves or messing about with Niall and Zayn during the breaks.

Liam’s luck ran out during their second block of interviews, however.

“Liam, you’re with Harry over here,” their handler instructed, leading the two of them over to a—in Liam’s opinion—too-small sofa to sit and wait for the first interviewer to arrive.

Liam held his breath as he perched on the sofa while Harry sprawled out in the corner, adjusting and re-adjusting her position half a dozen times before finally settling.

Liam felt like his nerves were on fire just being near her, his skin prickling like he’d gone to the beach and let himself dry without rinsing the saltwater off first. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

Harry didn’t seem to be suffering similarly. She was fidgety sure, but there was a smile curving across her face before the first interviewer even showed, and she looked a little bit high in Liam’s expert opinion.

Liam leaned over and carefully sniffed at her blouse. Yep. Definitely high. “Is that such a good idea?” he wondered, while simultaneously regretting his decision to open his mouth at all when Harry turned to look at him with her big, round eyes.

“Is what a good idea?” she asked innocently.

Liam mimed taking a drag.

“Oh.” Harry glanced down at herself as if expecting to find a lit joint sat in her lap as evidence. She looked up at Liam again questioningly. “It’s not that noticeable, is it?”

Liam found himself shaking his head in response just to reassure her even though that hadn’t been the point of him asking and despite her inability to even answer his question. Distantly, he registered his own annoyance at the fact that Harry still had him this whipped, after everything that had happened. If they all got through the rest of the year in one piece, Liam told himself, he was going to ask management for an extended vacation just so he could detox outside of Harry’s presence. Just being around her was enough for Liam to throw all reason and sensibility straight out the window.

Finally, the first of their scheduled interviewers came in, and Liam had a bit of a reprieve. But only a bit.

Maybe it was the weed, or maybe Harry was finally being permitted by Modest to say things she might not have normally been allowed to, but somehow she managed to undercut every inevitable question about girls or relationships with coy hints about her own gender and sexuality, to the point where Liam was legitimately worried she might spill the beans ahead of schedule.

“What are you playing at?” he hissed to her somewhere between the third and fourth interviews of the day.

Harry ignored him.

Liam tried to curb his own reactions to her answers, but it was difficult to keep a straight face when he didn’t know what she was going to say. ‘Not important’ was easy enough to brush past. Harry going off on a tangent about just how not masculine she really was tested Liam’s limits a bit more. And it only got worse from there.

By the end of it, Liam was sure that he’d botched most of the interviews entirely, even—toward the end—some of the ones where Harry hadn’t been acting out at all. Being around her was just too much to handle. It was impossible to be in the same room as Harry without thinking about her tits hidden under her shirt, the way her mouth had looked the last time it had been wrapped around his cock.

And now Liam knew he’d never have any of that again.

But that wasn’t even the part that hurt. If it had all just been physical, Liam was certain he could have gotten over it. Eventually, at least. But Liam knew he got attached to people far-too easily, and Harry was even easier to love than most. Even her pre-existing relationship with Louis hadn’t been much of a deterrent in the end.

Liam wasn’t the least bit surprised a few days later when he woke up to a hailstorm of tweets speculating about the nature of his relationship with Harry based on his reactions to her during the interviews that had just aired, but he didn’t even have the energy to stress out about it anymore. He turned his phone off and went straight back to sleep.

Liam didn’t see Harry, or anyone from the band, for about a week after that. When he spotted Harry at the rehearsals for the AMAs, he was once again struck by how different she looked, like all the changes over the past nine months were finally culminating all at once in a drastic metamorphasis. It was to the point now, where if Harry had been a perfect stranger, Liam would have just assumed she was a woman right off—which he knew was something he shouldn’t be doing anyway, but still.

Harry was dressed up in black jeans and a designer blouse despite the fact that it was only a rehearsal, so Liam assumed there must have been paps outside, notified as part of the increased visibility she was meant to receive surrounding her announcement.

Liam suddenly felt horrible for avoiding her all this time. Harry looked drained as she joined him up onstage, and he realised that she, more than any of the rest of them, had an immense amount of responsibility weighing her down as everything came together. And Liam—even though he’d been doing all of it to protect himself—had been a very bad friend.

It was guilt that prompted Liam to approach her after the rehearsals, looking as contrite as he could possibly manage while she stared back at him warily from over the lip of her water bottle as she greedily sucked the liquid down.

“I was wondering if you wanted to do something after this,” Liam proposed. He felt like he was back in secondary again, trying to ask out a girl infinitely more popular and better-looking than him. It wasn’t an inaccurate comparison, unfortunately.

Harry slowly lowered her water and squinted a bit in confusion. “What?” she replied. “I thought—never mind. Um, actually I was planning on doing a bit of shopping after this?”

“Oh.” Liam blinked at her a few times. He probably should have taken the rejection for what it was, but he couldn’t help himself as he opened his mouth again to reply. “I could come with you,” he offered. “I don’t mind playing pack mule for a few hours.”

Harry stared at him for several seconds without speaking before she finally responded. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You don’t have to.”

Liam nodded emphatically, sort of feeling like a hyperactive puppy finally given a bit of attention. Even though he’d been the one shunning any attention whatsoever for the last few weeks. “Should I just follow you or meet you there?” he asked.

In the end, they decided to have him meet her at the store she’d been planning to visit, neither of them trusting LA traffic enough to risk the chance of Liam losing Harry while trying to tail her. Harry had looked a bit hesitant as she relayed the address, but Liam had barely given the GPS a second glance after he’d put it in, too keen on making sure he showed up around the same time as Harry so she wouldn’t have to wait for him long.

Liam was shocked to find, then, that the address Harry had given him was for the Agent Provocateur shop on Rodeo. His mouth dropped open a bit in surprise as he drove past the storefront, trying to find a decent parking space nearby. Once he’d found one, Liam climbed out of the car quickly and half-jogged over to the lingerie boutique, not wanting to be caught lingering outside by anyone who might recognise him.

Liam wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that Harry was apparently comfortable enough now to go shopping for women’s undergarments, but he had the distinct feeling it had something to do with the fact that Louis’s discomfort with Harry’s gender had dissipated in the last month or so. He regretted agreeing to join Harry on her outing now as he looked around at all the overpriced bras and panties surrounding him on all sides.

There was a tap on Liam’s shoulder. He turned to find a petite woman at his side, looking up at him with a smile. “Can I help you find anything?” she asked brightly.

Liam shook his head. “I’m actually waiting for a friend,” he explained. “I don’t—”

Before Liam had a chance to finish giving his excuse for why he was stood in a lingerie store looking like a pervert, Harry finally walked through the doors, windblown and cheeks a bit flushed from more than just the chill weather outside. She was nervous; Liam could tell right off.

“Excuse me,” he said to the woman who’d come up to him before hurrying over to Harry’s side. “A bit public, yeah?” Liam said gently. He wasn’t trying to discourage Harry, really, but LA was rife with paps, and he didn’t think she’d want to be caught coming out of a lingerie shop right before her coming out.

Harry shrugged. “If you hold the bags, people will just think you’re buying it for some girl,” she replied nonchalantly, with no explanation as to how she’d been planning to execute her original plan before Liam had unwittingly offered himself as an accessory.

Liam sensed he wasn’t going to win the argument if he pushed her, however, so he just sighed and let it go, following Harry to the back of the shop without another word uttered in protest.

“I just wanted something to swim in,” Harry explained as she began perusing one of the relevant displays with an ease that she hadn’t possessed the last time they’d done this. “The pool at the new house is heated. I thought I might throw a party or something, after….”

Liam had no expectations that he would be invited to the event in question, but the realisation still stung a bit. “Right,” he said dully, because it felt like Harry was expecting some kind of verbal acknowledgement.

Harry glanced at Liam a bit suspiciously before turning her attention back to the bikini tops in front of her. “Suppose I’d have to special order bottoms,” she said softly, to herself more than Liam.

“Why?” Liam replied before realising what a dumb question that was. “Oh. Right.”

Harry huffed out a laugh and thumbed over a silky pink bikini top with berry-shaped adornments hanging from the skinny strip of fabric between the mannequin’s breasts. “What do you think?” she asked, glancing back at Liam to gauge his reaction.

Liam swallowed hard and tried to fight against the image his brain had conjured of Harry’s slimmed down torso, bare except for the way her boobs gently filled out the bikini, her tattoos a dark contrast against pink silk and milky white skin. “It’s a nice colour,” he finally offered once he’d found his voice again.

Harry smirked like she knew exactly what had been going through Liam’s mind and turned around to face the mannequin again. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I’ll get this one.”

In addition to the bikini top—and matching bottoms, despite her concerns about not being able to wear them publicly—Harry ended up with another dozen purchases, ranging from a fairly modest silk kimono to a pair of ostentatious rose gold handcuffs. And practically everything imaginable in between.

Liam couldn’t help but imagine her in all of them, tormented by the knowledge that he’d never have the chance to see any of it in the flesh.

“We should probably leave separately,” Harry suggested after she’d paid the astronomical price tag on her purchases. “Just in case.”

Liam nodded dumbly, still feeling a bit bowled over by everything he’d been subjected to in the last hour and a half. He ended up taking Harry’s bags and keys and dumping off her shopping in the Range Rover before leaving the keys in the designated spot and making the short trip to his own car. After he climbed in, he waited in the front seat for further instruction with his phone in his lap, but when he looked up toward the storefront to measure Harry’s progress, she was already behind the wheel of her car, waving to him as she drove back down the street.

Guess that was their afternoon done, then.

The next time Liam saw Harry was on their way to the red carpet for the AMAs. They were colour-coordinated, each of them decked out in a full black suit with gold accents and only minor differences in the styling—except for Harry that is. She was in all black as well, but it was obvious at a first glance that she wasn’t dressed remotely similar to the others.

Harry was wearing wide-leg flowing trousers with gold trim at the hem, and a suit jacket cinched at the waist with a floral brooch. Her hair was down much like it always was, but this time there was a golden laurel circlet resting in her curls. It was obvious at a first glance that she stood out, and that was the whole point.

Their stage performance had been pushed to almost the end of the night, giving them time to make an announcement during their inevitable win before they came back onstage for the song. They’d performed Night Changes during the rehearsal two days prior, but that wasn’t the song they’d be singing tonight.

Harry was a bit of a nervous wreck during the show itself, which was understandable considering everything that was about to change for her once they were called up onstage.

And then their name was called, and Liam stood up robotically with the rest of the lads, making his way to the stage as if he was in a dream instead of living the moment right then and there. Liam was barely aware of Louis’s words as he gave the speech that had been prepared for him by Martina and Harry herself. It was only the most important bit that stuck out in the haze of nerves and excitement.

“We also want to thank our bandmate Harry, who has been instrumental in expanding our horizons as we’ve gone through this incredible journey with them in making our fourth album.”

Liam sucked in a quiet breath and briefly shut his eyes. Subtle, understated. Just like they’d planned.

“And lastly,” Louis continued, “we’d like to dedicate our performance tonight to Harry herself, for being our Girl Almighty.”

Liam’s eyes shot open. Louis had gone off-script. There was confused murmuring from the audience as they made their way backstage with their award to prep for their upcoming performance, but Liam didn’t have an ounce of thought for that right then. He saw red as he reached for Louis just as soon as they were out of sight of the broadcasting cameras.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded, just managing to keep his voice down to avoid the crew overhearing.

Zayn and Niall both looked worried by Louis’s unexpected change in plans, but then Harry stepped in suddenly to defend him.

“I told him he could say it,” she asserted. “So just back off, Liam.”

Liam took a step back, hurt and confused that Harry apparently hadn’t seen fit to include the rest of them in her decision. But they still had a performance to get through, and as much as Liam wanted to run out of the theatre so he could go have a sulk in front of the telly (or drown himself in the bath), they needed to get through this, and they needed it to be perfect. For Harry’s sake.

The backdrop was the same as the one they’d planned to use for the Night Changes set. The lights illuminated them against a moonlit landscape, a winding road leading into the distance behind them. But where there had been serenity in the darkened sky, as soon as the beginning notes of Girl Almighty sounded, lightning flashed in the background, keeping time with the beat of the song.

Liam couldn’t help but stare at Harry next to him while he sang, and he could see Zayn and Liam doing the same. He had no doubts that Louis was following suit just out of Liam’s vision.

Harry beamed all the way through the performance, looking every bit the titular character in the song. And despite the crowd’s earlier confusion, the raucous applause that followed their performance more than made up for it.

But Liam was the one who felt like he was floating as they made their way backstage again, splitting up into groups to make use of the couple dressing rooms they’d been afforded to clean up and change after their performance.

Somehow, it was Harry who ended up following Liam inside his dressing room instead of Zayn. Liam turned and gave her a quizzical look as she closed the door—but not for the first time, he didn’t have the chance to say a word before her lips were on his, kissing him this time with gentle purpose, absent of the burning need she’d always possessed before.

Liam pushed her away. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

Harry shook her head, looking confused by his rejection. “I thought—”

“You can’t keep jerking me and Louis around,” Liam said angrily. “It’s not fair to him. It’s not fair to me.”

“Wait,” Harry started to say as she took a step closer. “It’s not—”

But Liam didn’t give her a chance to finish. He shouldered past her, oblivious to her protests, and sprinted down the corridor to where he knew their pool of security was waiting to escort them back to whichever afterparty they chose to attend. Or in Liam’s case, back to the hotel where he was staying—alone.

Liam allowed himself a brief moment of melancholia once he was safely locked inside his hotel room, far away from Harry and her endless temptations. And apparently, a complete lack of self-control. That was what bothered Liam the most, he thought. It wasn’t like her to cheat. He’d been a bit weirded out by the revelation that Louis had apparently known she was using Liam for sex while they weren’t having any, but this didn’t make any sense at all compared to that. She had Louis now. She had all of him. Why was she still doing this?

Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to make any sense of Harry’s motivations, Liam resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to put some sort of pre-defined boundaries in effect when it came time for the band to get back together again. He laid flat on his back in bed, still fully dressed in his clothes from their performance, breathing shallowly through his mouth as he tried to keep himself from bursting into tears.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

Liam rolled off his bed with a loud sigh and got up to answer it, assuming it was the bodyguard who’d brought him back. He must have forgotten something in the car.

The last thing Liam expected when he opened the door was to find Louis and Harry both stood on the other side, shoulder to shoulder with each other and staring back at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“We didn’t think you’d answer,” Louis said by way of greeting as he made his way inside.

“Excuse me,” Harry interjected. “I believe I said he’d answer after the third knock.”

“Well, that was the first, love.”

Liam just stared at them both as they each made themselves comfortable on either side of his bed while he remained stood near the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he questioned, uncertain if he could even call security to come take away his own co-workers, even if in his opinion the situation warranted it.

Harry looked to Louis. “Maybe you should explain?” she suggested.

Louis sighed as he shrugged off his blazer and started to unbutton his shirt. “Apparently, I have to,” he remarked, “since you’re incapable of doing it.”

Harry pouted in response. “I’m an Aquarius,” she replied.

“You can’t use that as an excuse for bloody everything,” Louis retorted.

“Hello?” Liam cut in, reminding them both that he was still there, waiting for an explanation. “Why are you getting undressed in my hotel room?”

“Because H likes you,” Louis replied easily. “And you like her, and you’re my best friend, so.” He shrugged, looking like he’d just told Liam that two plus two equalled four, instead of whatever he’d just said.

“I don’t get it,” Liam admitted.

Harry finally stood up again and moved over to him. She pulled his hands up from where they were resting at his sides and moved them to the brooch keeping her jacket pinned closed. Liam’s fingers moved almost as if by their own volition to unpin the adornment, allowing Harry’s blazer to fall open and reveal a high-necked black mesh bra underneath—the same one Liam had seen Harry pick out at Agent Provocateur. For a moment, it felt like his heart had stopped.

“I want you,” Harry said in a slow voice as her blazer slowly floated down to the floor, leaving her in just the bra and her high-waisted trousers. “And I want Louis, too. I want to be selfish.”

“We can’t—” Liam started to say, but Harry cut him off.

“Why not?” she challenged, her eyes blazing as she tucked her thumbs inside the waistband of her trousers and slowly peeled them off. “Are you really going to tell me I can’t have _both_?”

Liam just stared at her for a long moment, considering the possibilities, weighing the consequences, and then, finally, he leaned down to kiss her. Louis was right behind her, and somehow, it didn’t feel strange knowing that, knowing that he was watching. Louis really was his best friend, and in a way, Harry was now, too. This felt right to Liam, even though by all accounts it shouldn’t have.

“What do I…?” Liam wondered after Harry broke the kiss, looking her up and down while she took a few steps back toward the bed again.

Harry reached for his hand, pulling him along even as she looked to Louis and nodded. Liam watched as Louis came up behind her to unzip the back of her bra, taking it off to reveal Harry’s bare breasts, which even after seeing them half a dozen times before, still felt like witnessing one of the seven wonders of the world to Liam.

“Your tits are like the Pyramids,” Liam said dazedly as she sat down on the foot of the bed with Liam stood between her thighs.

“What?” Harry said, laughing, her reaction echoed by Louis behind her.

But Liam was too out of his head to even explain. He allowed himself to be guided into position, manipulated by both Harry and Louis’s hands as the former unzipped his trousers while the latter helped him out of his shirt.

It didn’t take much to get hard once Liam’s cock was in Harry’s hand, and by the time she’d pushed it up between her boobs, Liam was worried that this night was going to be over in ten seconds flat.

“Want to watch you fuck her before I do,” Louis whispered in Liam’s ear, sending a shiver up his spine.

Liam pulled back out of Harry’s grip regretfully, not wanting to come too soon even though the thought of fucking her tits on its own was almost as tempting as the alternative.

“Come on, baby,” Louis said, guiding Harry down onto her back before helping her out of the black panties she’d been wearing underneath her suit for the awards show. He tossed them aside quickly, before spreading her legs how he wanted them and tucking a pillow under her hips.

Liam wasn’t expecting the glint of metal between Harry’s arse-cheeks that appeared now that she was on display, but he wasn’t so naïve as to not recognise the object for what it was. “You really had this all planned, then?” he said.

Louis shrugged. “More or less.” He laid down next to Harry on the bed and leaned pulled something out of his trousers, tossing it to Liam.

It wasn’t until Liam caught the bottle that he realised it was lube. “No condom?” Liam wondered.

Louis shook his head. “We all get our check-ups, don’t we?” he countered. “Besides, H wanted us to both come inside her.”

Liam had to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock at hearing that, afraid the throbbing in his belly might end up in an unfortunate accident if he wasn’t careful. It hadn’t escaped his notice that since Harry had laid down on the bed, she hadn’t said much of anything, but it didn’t take more than one look at her to realise why Louis was doing all of the talking.

She was gone, completely and utterly gone, her eyes glassed over already just from the anticipation of what was coming next.

Liam knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, so he positioned himself between her spread thighs and pulled out the plug from her arse before slowly replacing it with his cock.

Harry was tight even after wearing the plug all night, and Liam had to hold his breath as he sheathed himself inside her. It would have been easier if she’d been on her stomach, he thought as he pushed in to the hilt. Like this, he could see her chest heaving with every centimetre that he sunk into her, could see her mouth slack and kiss-bitten, her eyes half-closed in pleasure already.

“You don’t need to make her come,” Louis said once Liam was fully inside her, his hips still as they pressed up against the backs of her thighs. “She wants you to use her. _I_ want you to use her.”

The press of Louis’s mouth against Liam’s as he spilled into Harry a few minutes later should have felt strange, unwelcome, but to Liam, it sort of felt a bit like coming home.

After, they laid in Liam’s hotel bed, squished together with Harry snuggled up between them in the middle, their skin sweat-slick and warm to the touch. They were all in desperate need of cleaning up, but Liam couldn’t bring himself to disturb the moment of quiet peace that had descended over them after Louis had come inside Harry before getting her off with his fingers and tongue while Liam had watched. Liam didn’t ever want to leave this bed.

But eventually, morning did come, and with it, a whole host of new responsibilities in the wake of their announcement the previous night. Liam didn’t have much of a chance to do anything but kiss Harry goodbye before she was whisked away by Louis around dawn to go back to her house so they could pack for Australia.

Liam allowed himself a few more hours of blissful rest before worrying about doing the same. When he woke up again, it was with barely twenty minutes left in which to shower and pack, and he found himself scrambling to get everything together while his mind still buzzed with the after effects of the night he’d spent with Harry and Louis.

The flight to Australia was a long one, and there wasn’t much that Liam could do to enjoy this new honeymoon period he’d suddenly been thrust into. Zayn and Niall still didn’t know, and they hadn’t had a chance to even discuss the possibility of breaking something like this to the public so soon after the news about Harry had finally been revealed.

Thinking about it on the flight across the Pacific, Liam decided that they should probably wait a while and see how things shook out before making any big decisions. For now, he was content to enjoy Harry and Louis’s company where and when he had the chance, and if he had to keep yet another secret from the world for Harry’s sake, then so be it.

This year’s ARIAs were even wilder than the first large-scale awards show Liam could remember attending. Harry had decided to bite the bullet and attend in a gown, and she was by far the subject of the most attention on the red carpet as they drew in crowds of interviewers and photographers eager to get their piece of the media circus following her coming out.

After, Louis pulled Liam out to his and Harry’s car with them, taking him a little by surprise before he remembered that this was to be their new normal.

“Hotel?” Liam asked as he squeezed into the backseat alongside Harry, who was diligently attempting to take off her bra without removing her dress. He reached over to help, managing to undo the clasp without too much trouble thanks to his experiences with Sophia in the past.

Louis shook his head with a devilish grin. “You’ll see,” he said.

They ended up at a tattoo parlour of all places, and Liam sat by while Louis got the dagger to match Harry’s rose, as well as the ‘given a chance’ beneath. Both he and Harry laughed at the way Louis squirmed under the gun, and it felt a lot like old times, before things had ever gotten as complicated as they were now.

“You want one, mate?” the tattoo artist asked as he wrapped up Louis’s arm after, noting the glint in Liam’s eye as he stared down at the fresh ink.

“Yeah,” Liam replied, surprising even himself when he nodded in affirmation.

Liam knew the smile on Harry’s face when he showed her the lightning bolt his forearm—in the same place as Louis’s dagger and her rose—would be seared into his brain until the day he died.


End file.
